Among The Bodies
by SEV1X
Summary: The military finally came, only they weren't able to save everyone. Pulled away from her group and her chance to be rescued , Zoey has no choice but to head back into the city. The continuing absence of her friends make her realize that not only her sanity is in danger, but her odds of staying alive. But maybe a foolish choice she made in the woods just might come back to get her.
1. The Call For Help

**Disclaimer: I don't own Left 4 Dead.**

**Note: This story has it's chapters constantly rewritten, to fix grammar errors and things like that. Nothing too major. So if you reread a chapter, you may notice small changes. Enjoy!**

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Among The Bodies: The Call For Help

I liked it better when I could breath, and not have to smell the boomer bile stink emitting from my clothes. There's clearly green traces of slime on me, but I made no move to try to wipe any of the substance off. Attempting to do so would just get the gunk on my fingers, making them too slippery to hold onto a gun, and I was not going to risk not being able to use a gun.

I liked it better when my thumbs would get sore from playing too many video games on a school night, not when my trigger finger starts to ache and feel like its about it plop right off and join the rest of the limbs on the ground. Sometimes, when I have the chance, I pop my knuckles and rolled my wrist. It hurt, but if felt better knowing I still had digits on my hands.

I liked it better when I didn't have to ram someone's skull into the blunt of my gun when they came a little too close. I remembered one of the lives I took, a child running at me in monkey t-shirt, arms stretched out. If it were under different circumstances, I would think of him just coming to hug me. The first bullet took off his ear, and the second lodged between his eyes.

I liked the world much better before now.

I was the first to be awake, shortly followed by Bill and Louis. The rumbling outside was the same noise we had heard the night before, only this time it's louder, and obviously closer. The day before we were able to sneak around a tank, that was too focused on getting through a small doorway then paying attention to whatever was creeping behind it. I would have thought it funny, but uttering a single giggle would have meant a mass of muscle to the face.

Once we had gotten to the safe room, I didn't even bother checking for supplies. I headed for the nearest bedroll and fell on it, finding out it was a lot less soft then it looked. Toning out the men's talk and my nose's throbbing pain, thanks to the pavement under bedroll, I drifted off. The only thing that I cared enough to note of was the distant sound of the tank.

Bill lit a cigar and glared at the bars of the safe room door. It wasn't the door the group had planned on going out of, so they wouldn't have to run into the bumbling monstrosity outside. It was the worry of knowing that tanks are fully capable of breaking down doors, no matter what there made of, and if the tank had _found_ them or not.

He didn't dwell on it. All the more reason to get moving, right? The front of his boots came into contact with Francis's bedroll as he kicked the biker onto an awake state. Francis's clutched the back of his head, mouth open to protest, but slowly closed and rose to his feet as he saw Bill blow his smoke to open bars.

The tank was indeed, right outside the door, completely unaware of the four behind the red painted steel. The only way for the team to successfully escape was to be absolutely quiet, quickly pack their things and leave.

I was pulling my hair back into my signature ponytail. Already attaching a first aid kit to my belt and stuffed as much ammo I could into my pockets. Snatching up one of the two pipe bombs, I faced my comrades. "Ready?"

Louis was fumbling with the pills bottle on his own hook. "Almost" He whispered. Bill leaned against the exit and finished his cigarette, which he playfully flicked towards Francis's shoes. The biker stepped back, muttering quietly. Bill scratched his chin innocently, while a grin grew on my face.

The veteran raised a finger to his mouth, making the universal 'shhh' sound, and turned the knob on the door. I raised my handgun, Francis his shotgun, and Louis his assault rifle. Overtime, we all seemed to have favorite types of guns. Bill was an exception, for he tended to switch to completely different kinds of firearms from time to time.

The woods were thick and I even found common infected jumping out of trees, like deranged gorillas. Occasionally, Francis or Bill would look up and start shooting, and I would see a dead body fall to the ground. I decided that I wasn't going to look up and fire, I was going to focus on what's in front of me.

I debated whether or not I should pay more attention to what's above me, but instead relied on my teammates. There could be hunters and smokers hiding in the branches, waiting for the perfect moment to snag me and hang me high with the birds, or jump down and rip out my throat.

The snarling face of a woman an inch away brought me out of my thinking and I brought down the gun's handle to the side of the head. The body collapsed, twitched, then laid still. I turned and shot two dead running for Bill, in which the old man nodded in thanks, before continuing on.

"Look, up there, gotta be someone still living there." Louis pointed in the direction with his gun. In the fog, I could barely make out a roof and dim lights. In this world now, lights meant life. Bill nodded. "Then let's hope they don't shoot us on sight. C'mon" No one argued as we headed towards the lights.

It was suddenly hard to breath in the fog, the ground underneath my sneakers became soft and mud plastered itself on the bottom of my pants legs. Our path led into a clearing, and I could fully see the fresh tire marks printed in the mud and leading away from the woods, to a crash wreckage of what I'm guessing used to be a truck not far from a house.

The house, broken windows,broken door, and half the roof caved in. Didn't look like anyone could hold up there. I wondered how it even still had the lights on. Bill sighed and pointed to the wreckage of the truck. "Francis, Zoey, check and sees if there's anything in the rubble. Louis, come with me. Move people."

The biker rolled his eyes as the other two men walked away. "Why do we have to check the rubble, it's not like there's gonna be anything in there." He said, glancing back to make sure Bill was still inside the house. It was so like them to speak behind each other's back. "They just want to keep all the supplies to themselves, greedy bastards." He raised his shotgun in emphasis.

I raised a brow. "I'm sure he wants us to check for a zombified driver, Francis" He huffed, and pointed aim at the wreckage. He kicked away a couple of pieces of trash before backing away in disgust. "Leg" I lowered my aim, confused. "What?" he moved to the side to let me see.

"Look, leg"

Dispite the smell of rotting flesh and the sight of maggots, I was able to look with throwing up. I lost the need to do so when I started killing. There was a grey slashed up leg, and if the owner was still attached to it, then they were no doubt dead.

I crouched down and picked up the rubble with my hands, moving it away more efficiently. I lifted up what seemed like part of an engine, and underneath was a white pill bottle. I heard Francis's chuckle as I snatched it up and stuck in on my waist.

"Looks like Bill and Louis aren't the only greedy ones"

"Like your one to talk, you ammo hoarder"

The biker shrugged in defense. "I just have more pockets than you" I ignored him as the face of the leg owner came into view, along with a few questions. There was massive gashes on the man's neck and torso, on the face too, making it completely impossible to identify the driver. It wasn't hard to recognize the dreaded marks and I know that they couldn't have been made in a car wreck. These were claw marks.

I sighed and took a step back. The same marks have been inflicted on him more than several times, so I knew just what creature was responsible for doing this. "He couldn't have died from the crash, not with a grave injury like this." Francis mused. Thank you, Captain Obvious.

"I suppose you found something, or are you two just gawking at the dirt?"

Both survivors turned to meet Bill, once again smoking a cigar. Louis piped up from behind him. "We found food, med kits, and hell, even a radio. I wonder why this place hasn't been drained already!" He cheered, holding up a granola bar. I felt my stomach roar, and pretended not to notice. I hoped no one else did either.

Regardless of whether or not they heard my stomach, Louis tossed a bar over to me, and I gratefully unwrapped it and knawed down without hesitation. "What's that there?" Louis nodded towards the pile. I was about to swallow and answer, but Francis beat me to it.

"We found pills and a dead body, that's about it." Francis shrugged. I swallowed, and coughed. "Actually, the guy died from a hunter, not the crash, Francis," I pointed at the gorey scene. "That couldn't have been made by anything but a Hunter" The tattooed man shrugged again.

"Yeah, I already knew that, so?"

"So, that means that hunter could still be around, son. Keep a look out." Bill replied, walking forward and crouching to observe the body. He shook his head and blew out a cloud of smoke. "Why would a hunter linger here?" Louis asked, something I also wanted to know.

Bill just made his way back to the house and waved over his shoulder. "Plenty of places to hide, the woods, the house, so keep on your guard." I shrugged and walked over beside him. I could hear Francis's little huff. I knew he didn't like the fact that Bill was 'the leader', but the old man was the best of all of them, whether the brute liked it or not. Louis flashed us a smile.

"Alright, let's go see if we can get that radio working"

The inside of the house looked untouched by the disasters of the world. Nice furniture, no blood stains, and if it weren't for the broken door and windows, it would looked normal. Until you walked upstairs, where the attic was bathed in blood and you couldn't walk straight without ramming your head on the ceiling.

Laid up on the couch, I massaged the muscles in my hands and cracked my knuckles. I felt them pop and an instant feeling of relief went through my skin. Louis was on the other side of the room, tinkering on what looked like the radio he talked about. Or what used to be a radio. To me, it looked like scraps of metal.

Francis propped his gun up against the wall and sat down next to me. He watched me crack my hands and flail them. "You know there's a better way to do that, right?" I faced him, raising my brows making a face that instantly said show-me-how.

He took his hands and bended them backwards. I heard loud pops and a crunch, and grew squeamish. It looked like he was trying to break his own hand. He pulled back his fingers one by one and I didn't even want to look anymore.

"What? Too much for ya?"

I could detect the amusement in his voice and retorted back. "That just doesn't look human, Francis. Looks like you're trying to break off your own fingers." I raised my hands and went back to massaging. "I'll stick to my own methods" Francis shrugged. "Fine, but they'll get worse" I rolled my eyes. It was better then breaking them off.

"Hello...General Davidson, calling out….who has made….survi…"

Everyone in the room had brought their attention to the radio. Through the static I could hear a man's voice, though I really couldn't make out what he was saying. Bill turned away from his watch post, and with his hands, made a motion to answer back. Louis nodded. Me and Francis sat still, listening for the voice in the static.

Louis picked up the radio's makeshift mic, and held to up to speak. "Hey, hey! If you can hear me, please say something!" The room went quiet, then the voice was back. "Are you infected?" The sentence was muffled, but short enough to where we could understand it.

Louis replied back a split second later. "No, we are not infected! I repeat, not infected!"

Francis nudged my arm. "Why would we use the radio if we were infected?" I swatted him back to shut him up, trying to listen. He crossed him arms and leaned back, whispering to me "I hate being silent"

I ignored him. "…..many are…you" The man, whom I have decided to call 'Davidson' now, asked. "Four, there are four of us here!" I don't know why Louis was yelling, I guess he thought if he didn't, Davidson wouldn't hear him.

There was what sounded like conversation broken up in pieces on the other side of the transmitter. "We're tracking you to your location, stay where you are and hold off until we get there. Do you copy?" The static in the transmission was complete gone and I guessed they did something on the other end to remove it.

We didn't have to answer. Instead, the sound of an incoming horde answered for us. I slumped and felt like cradling my head in my hands. Francis lept up and grabbed his shotgun and turned to the radio. "We'll hold out, but you better be fast. We won't be here if you take forever" and with that, walked outside and waited for figures to start popping out of the woods.

"We're sending out a unit now, give us an hour, and we'll be there. Over"

Bill tossed me my two handguns and joined Francis outside. I stopped Louis, holding up the white pill bottle I found earlier in the wreckage. "Promise to put this to good use?" He smiled "I'll trade ya" I tossed the pills to him as he pulled a pipe bomb out of his pocket. He never liked trying to attach things to his belt. "You do have the best throw."

I grinned, and we walked outside. Through the dense fog, I saw heads bobbing with blood and puke around their mouths. I couldn't shoot them that far away, not with my hand guns. But I know what I could do.

Bill knew instantly and shouted orders to the rest of the group. "We got you covered, go!" I worked on pulling the pin on the pipe bomb as fast as I could. I spotted a dense amount of zombies in one place, all heading towards us on the east side of the house. Perfect.

I yelled a warning to the rest of the group, and they cleared away from the little circle they made around me. I flung my arms back and threw the ticking bomb right into the thick of the horde. But not a second before I covered my ears to protect myself from the explosion, I heard the faint sound of a growl.


	2. Monsters Under The Bed

**Disclaimer: I do not own Left 4 Dead.**

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Among The Bodies: Monsters Under The Bed

There couldn't have been a worse time. The growl stole my attention away from the horde and up to the sky. I was smart enough to throw the bomb first. I looked to roof of the house and to the trees in the distance, but I couldn't see anything but flying body parts. I looked to the others; they were doing the same gesture.

Our distraction brought the horde even closer and we snapped back into positions and started firing. I kept most of my focus on the air though, every ten or twenty mindless victims I killed, I would look up for a second and scan for anyone or anything with claws about to land and tear me to shreds.

The pipe bomb weakened the horde noticeably and left limbs to trip over. I shot a man in swim trunks in the chest twice, did a full turn and kicked one reaching for my ponytail. I got him in the knee and he fell to the ground. Feeling a hand around my ankle and teeth digging into my shoe, I yanked out of his grip and brought down my sneaker to the side of his head. One kick and he was dead.

Spinning around to whatever was behind me, I was a smacked across the face and hit in the stomach. I clutched my belly, and used my other hand to aim. Bill got him before I did, planting a bullet in the the neck of the infected. He reached out a hand and pulled me to my feet, and we both went back to fighting. I'll consider that my 'thank you' for earlier.

They were getting closer, and I wasn't sure how long it has been since the man on radio sent out a unit like he said, or even sent out a unit at all. We've been abandoned before. I wouldn't be surprised if they decided to leave us for dead dispite the promise of rescue.

The horde wasn't thinning out as it was doing a couple of minutes ago; instead, it seemed to thicken. I had a feeling we were going to run out of ammo before this was over. I reloaded and popped the pin on my second pipe bomb, throwing it out onto the mass crowd. The crowed weakened ever so slightly and we all took a deep breath before firing again.

"Their coming in too fast! Into the house!"

No one argued with Francis, and we backed into the house. They weren't coming as close as they were, but they were still flooding through the open door and windows. We kept backing up, until our backs hit the wall.

A stupid idea came to mind, but I yelled it out anyway. "Block them with the furniture! Louis, Francis!" I was given are-you-for-real-looks, but they ran over to the nearest couch and started to lift it. Bill and I stepped up to cover them. "Watch it!"

We stepped out of the way as they practically chucked the couch at the gap. The couch covered the entire doorway. Infected bat on it for a minute before figuring out that it wasn't going to budge. Now the only problem was the windows. "Find more stuff, we'll cover you!" I yelled, shooting through the broken glass of the windows. I could just _feel_ Francis roll his eyes behind my back. I turned around to find him doing just that.

I huffed, something that was more of his thing, but I guess it was rubbing off on me. "Fine, I'll find something, cover me" And before he could protest, I started running up the stairs. Everything else downstairs was either too big or nailed to something else.

I ignored the smell of dried blood, and ducked under the broken ceiling. I spotted a chair in the corner. If it was big enough I could lodge it in a window.

Reaching out and picking it up by the seat, I turned and started heading downstairs, but a small rustle caught my attention. I used one hand to hold the chair, the other to aim one of my guns. There was a bed, in the opposite corner I found the chair in. It was covered in white sheets, blood stains clearly visible on them.

I could of sworn I saw something make movement underneath the bed. I squinted and tried to focus on the dark shape underneath. But hearing the sounds of fighting downstairs, I just assumed it was a rat and continued down.

"Francis! Catch!"

I tossed the chair to him and he lodged it in the nearest window. There were two more windows, both broken and infected still flooding out of them. I took out my handgun and joined in shooting whatever came through.

So it was just me and Louis with one window and Bill and Francis with the other. It was getting to be so easy; Bill leaned up against the wall to shoot the infected. How he could take on such a relaxed pose, I had no idea. All we had to do is aim for a single spot in continuous fire. The horde wasn't really that much of a horde anymore.

A little while later, infected stopped pouring through the opening and the screeching from outside had stopped. We finally had room to breathe again. I sunk down to the floor seeing as how the couch was now the new door. Bill lit another cigar, what looked like his fifth that day and put a hand on my shoulder.

"Can't you come up with ideas like that more often?"

I smiled at him. Though it sounded more like a scold, I knew it was just his way of saying way-to-go-kid. Even Francis nodded, though he seemed unimpressed."Get more ammo, we're not out of here yet." A pack of ammo was sent fly towards my face. I turned away and put my hands up to catch it before in came into contact with my already bruised up nose.

Catching it, brought it down to glare. Louis held up his hands, in an 'my bad' pose "Sorry" he chuckled. Grinning, I waved my gun in a playful manner, and stood up to full height. I wanted to go upstairs again. I needed to see what was underneath the bed. Could it be an infected? Maybe a scared survivor? Or maybe just a rat. Probably a rat.

A distant sound of a motor brought me back to current focus. It sounded like a boat, or a car. My eyes widened, and I looked to my teammates. Francis had a smug grin on his face and was slapping Louis on the back, who was peeking out a window. Bill was still smoking, blank faced as ever.

Louis peeked out the broken shards of glass, and I followed. I could see it through the fog and it got even louder now. Coming out of the woods was a large truck, a mud splattered, dirty, but human controlled truck. I saw three soldiers in the back, holding large guns and one of them holding a scanner of some sort. I couldn't see at this distance, but I felt my heat beat faster and the excitement of getting out of here was overtaking me.

"Bill, it's them…" My voice cracked ever so slightly, but I didn't care. Francis was already outside, having climbed out the window when I wasn't looking. He waved towards the truck, trying to catch their attention. Louis was following him, and I even found myself trying to climb through.

The sound of a throat clearing caught my attention and I shifted around to face Bill, who amusedly stood by the open door way. How an old man could push it down by himself, don't know, don't care. I chuckled for acting dumb, and removed myself from the window.

Following Bill, I had to cover my nose from the stench. There wasn't even a single fully intact body in sight. Everyone had some limb or other part missing. I took a notice of the pile of bodies by the two windows we fired at. They were all stacked up on each other, just a pile of rotting flesh.

Louis and Francis were already on the truck. Laughing and talking with the men. Francis caught sight of the open door gap and raised a brow. I laughed as I was pulled up onto the truck. Bill was the last one up. "What? Doors not cool enough for you, Francis?" I joked.

One of the soldiers shot a surprised look at me and him. "Your name is Francis? Man, that's gold!" All three solders burst into laughter and I joined in myself. It felt good to laugh after fighting this long. These were the moments I treasured the most.

Of course they never last forever.

We heard the screeching at the same time, and did what reflexes have been taught to do; grab our guns and start shooting. More figures from the trees, only this time it wasn't as much as there was before. I couldn't shoot the distance that the men could with my measly pistol, so I just watched the sky and watched for any special infected.

"Well, I think it's about time we ditch this dump, eh fellas?"

The fellow soldiers agreed with their comrade. The one closest to the inside banged against the tinted glass. The wheels started moving and we were driving away. The infected crowds were growing more and more away as we moved away.

I took a deep breath, and smiled. "So where now?" The soldier beside me reloaded his gun before replying. "We have a safe place, not well populated, but has plenty of weapons and food. We'll take you there, then have you-"

I didn't get to hear the rest of the sentence. A slimy appendage wrapped itself around my mid-section and for a split second, everything was frozen. Then I was yanked out of the truck and onto the ground.

"Zoey!"

Their voices were lost throughout the screeching. I heard gunfire and felt the tongue loosen and I ripped it off me. I could do nothing but sit on the ground as I watched them drive away. The soldiers were holding my friends back, like they were about to jump straight out of the truck.

I wanted them to. I didn't want to be left alone. I didn't want to die here. So I turned and ran away from the woods. It would have been useless to chase after the truck; the infected would have gotten me first. Louis had given me ammo before, but I never reloaded my gun.

None of the infected seemed to head directly towards me, mostly heading for the disappearing truck. I shot my way through two or three and stumbled into the doorway. I didn't have the strength or time to put back up the couch or shoot through the windows downstairs. So I did the next thing I could think of.

Running upstairs, I looked around, panting. The bed caught my eye. With a heave, I pushed it over the opening of the stairs and it covered the same way the couch did the doorway. I normally wouldn't have the strength to do that in record time like I did, but I guess when your life is at stake the adrenaline rushing through your veins makes you stronger.

There was a small hole in the ceiling where the roof had cave in. It could expose me, but it could also be a hasty escape route. I readied my gun and pulled myself high enough to look outside the opening. All the infected had stopped running for the house, and were running into the same woods that my dear friends have just driven away into.

I wiped away my wet eyes. I need perfect vision right now; blurry vision could cost me my life. Looking around, the body of a smoker lay on the tile nearby. He must have been on the roof and when he was killed, fell off to the side.

If only I had paid more attention when I was in the truck, I could of killed the smoker before it had ever snatched me. But instead, I let my guard down and now I'm stuck here alone.

Sitting against the wall, I curled my knees to my chest. I clutched my only gun in my right hand, and fought the urge to cry. Making too much noise would give away my position. But it was hard.

I put my head down, and sobbed quietly. They saw me get yanked out of that truck, and yet they didn't turn around to save me. I don't blame them. Bill or Francis, even Louis would have jumped out to save me, but they were held back, and now I'm on my own.

Tears blocked my vision, so when I felt a little prick on my head, I didn't pay any attention to it. I thought I could feel migraine coming on.

Raising my head, I found lethal, bloody teeth and claws instead. I rather would of had the headache.


	3. Trapped

**Disclaimer: I don't own Left 4 Dead.**

Among The Bodies: Trapped

I couldn't find my breath, and the noises from the disappearing horde outside were nothing compared to growls from the hunter in front of me. The fabric of the hood brushed up against my forehead and the smell was so foul that I couldn't bare it. But the will to survive piped up and I did the only thing I could have done at the moment.

Diving my palms into his shoulders, I pushed with all my might and then some. The hunter fell to the floor, dazed. Usually, there would have been no way for me to have done that, but I guess I caught him off guard. I rushed to the stairs, then to the roof when the bed I found was covering the being exposed. It was better than being stuck in a room with blood thirsty predator.

I ripped off a tile from the part of the roof that was hanging down and chucked it at him. He yelped and I guessed I hit bull's eye. I gripped the sides of the hole and hoisted myself up onto the top of house as quickly as I could. I looked around for a chance to find something, anything to block the hole.

I spotted the smoker's body, and my hands moved on their own. I placed it over the hole, and ran to the side. I knew zombies weren't smart enough to open doors on their own, so I hoped that sheer chance that the hunter would think that he was trapped in there. I decided to believe it would work, dispite knowing how stupid and dumb the tactic was.

There was a pipe, on the left of the house. I could slide down and make my escape. But where would I go? Into the forest? I didn't have a choice. I ran to the pipe and checked my back pocket for my gun before I descended. It would have been horrible to have left my gun in the room.

The second my feet were in the ground, I started running. Now, I could feel the ache in my legs rising and starting to spread throughout my body. I ignored it, I've felt much worse before. I was getting closer to the trees when I heard an outraged cry.

I knew it was the hunter but I didn't look back to see if he had escaped. I just kept running, and running. I don't know how long I ran, or even in what direction I ran in, I just knew I was lost and alone. There was no common infected, or any special infected. Other than that dreaded hunter, if he was still chasing me. It's near impossible to out run a hunter, but it couldn't hurt to try.

Stopping, I put my hands on my knees. I need to catch my breath. Part of me feels like I'm about to lose it forever. Don't think about that Zoey, just keep moving. I looked up. Everything in my sight was trees,dirt and leaves. So where do I run?

The sky was getting dark, and I really wished I had some sort of shelter or companion with me. But as I stared up at the branches, I knew I only had one place to take cover tonight.

The sun was already over the horizon and I was forced to turn my flashlight on by the time I was in a tree high enough from the ground. My clothing had rips and tears and splinters imbedded in them. I'm pretty sure I've gotten a couple of scratches and bruises just trying to climb up. I haven't climbed up a tree since the 6th grade.

I was a good height up off the ground, and in a spot where I can safely lay and get a rest before any common could get me, but special infected I wasn't sure about. I clutched my gun and watched as the moon rise high. Shutting my eyes only when my breathing calmed. God, I wished my dad was here.

My dad would still probably be alive if I hadn't of shot him. The DNA that had kept me from getting infected had been in his blood. I got it from him. My mother wasn't so lucky with the genetics. Women need two chromosomes to become immune when men only need one.

My mother had one, and my father had one, giving me two. My mother was the first infected I had to kill. She was attacked and bitten before our eyes. I was told to get the phone but when I came back, Mom was already latched onto my father's throat.

Once she was dead, I had tears flowing down my cheeks and I leaned down to dad. He sat up in the corner, took my hand in his and begged for me not to let him turn. I didn't have much of a choice. I said I love you, shot him, and left, not even looking back. I know now that if I had patched him up and let him heal, he wouldn't have turned. But I couldn't change the past now.

The night was quiet and dark. I was still debating on whether or not I should try to get some shuteye. I know that common infected couldn't hurt me way up here, but there was always a chance that one could somehow discover a way to climb up to me and rip me out from there.

There was also the chance of a special infected. But I don't think I would be attacked at this time, it was two dark. I know smokers and hunters had better eyesight than humans, but its useless being this dark, it's not like they had night vision.

My droopy eyelids won the argument over my head and I let my head rest up against the bark of the tree. This was my first night sleeping in a tree since the break out, and I've slept in some pretty weird places.

The crickets around me became silent as I felt myself become lightweight and dropping into the black.

The sun burned my eyes when I opened them in the morning. The first thought that came to mind was to make sure everyone else was awake. Then I remember how they were taken from me and driven away to who knows where. I swallowed and sat myself up top get a good view on the upper parts of the forest.

Now was the time to start thinking about my options. My first one was to go back to the house and try and follow the trail to the military camp, or safe zone, or whatever they called it. My second option was to make my way through to the other side of the woods and go back into the city and then go through all of the past few weeks again just to exit on the other side.

I briefly thought about seriously going back to the house, and a small thought of my friends going back there to look for me imbedded itself in my mind. I rubbed my forehead, and picked out the tiny pieces of bark inside my ponytail. I could try to go back, but it would just get me killed. The area was already overrun to the brim with infected and it would be suicide to try and make it out in such an open area.

I was already heading in an known direction. So I just decided to keep heading this way. I had to keep moving, otherwise the infected could corner me up a tree or in some other dreaded place. I truly hoped that this was this last time I would have to spend my night hiding within the branches.

I jumped down branch after branch. My shoes made a crunching sound as I hit the leaves on the ground. I almost wanted to kiss the dirt. My dreams of as last night consisted of infected falling from the sky or floating up to me and knocking me out of the tree. Or worse.

I seriously hope that they didn't mutant enough to where they grow wings and could snatch us up if they wanted too. But then, smokers already snatched us, and hunters' kind of fall from the sky, so I guess I could handle a couple flying zombies. If I weren't on my own.

I removed myself from the train of thought. If I didn't keep a good focus, I could be surprised attacked.

The woods weren't as scary or hard to navigate through in the day time. I could plainly see through the trees and could make an easy run for it if I had to. I turned my head when I heard footsteps. A single snarling infected rushed me from my left. I didn't even have to waste my bullets on it.

I kicked at its kneecap and it buckled to the ground. I kept a foot on its head, crushing it until I heard a little _crack_, and it stopped moving. I would of carried on my way had I not heard the suffering wimpers nearby.

My first thought was that it was a witch, and to just keep walking. My second thought was that it was a survivor in need. These whimpers didn't sound like a witch. Witches were mournful and sad. These sounded like they were in a lot of pain and anguish.

I shouldn't let my soft side get to me and I should just keep on walking. But my feet wasn't heading in the direction of the city, instead it was nearing the pathetic sounds. I was getting closer, as they became louder.

I rounded a tree and my eyes widened as my gun went up.

He, or I assumed it was a he, pulled at his leg, his own claws stretching open the wound even worse. The duct tape covered the leg caught in a bear trap, and the sharp points of the device were slowly digging into him as he whimpered.

I was behind him, and planned to stay that way. The escape plan of just creeping back the way I came vanished as he stopped and turned to face my direction. He growled at my human face, but his gaze landed on my gun and he stopped short.

How did a bear trap get here? Maybe a hunter set it up as a trap for the infected more than trying to hunt animals, or maybe the military camp was closer than I thought and this was one of _their_ traps. Either way, I pitied the poor killer who continued to rip his own leg.

I briefly wondered if this was the same hunter from the abandoned house. I hoped it wasn't, knowing that the thing had followed me all the way here just made me feel insecure.

I put my gun in the back of my pants and slowly stepped over to him. He noticed me getting closer and made a desperate swipe at my legs. I jumped back and pulled my gun back out into view, that's when he went silent and did his best to crawl away from me, bringing the bear trap with him.

So he knew what a gun was, and that it could kill him. Or at least hurt him. I guess infected were smarter than they were given credit for. I always thought they were just lost their minds once they were infected and went crazy on anyone that wasn't. I never took it in account that they actually had some sort of life value.

I pitied him. My eyes sunk down to the metal death trap attached to his leg, then to the lethel claws attached to his hands. I could shoot him. I really could. But I'm not. Why? Because I just feel like a fucking softy today.

Besides, he was in no fit shape to try and attack me. Even if he did try to race after me, that leg would slow him down at least enough to where I can get far, far away from here.

I put the gun in my pants again, and held my hands out in front of me to show that I was unarmed. Probably not the best thing to do, but I didn't want my head taken off trying to help this guy. Or for him to squirm away and make it even worse.

He squirmed anyway. He kept scooting backwards until he was backed up against the bark of a tree. He growled and snarled feral warnings, and I didn't blame him. If someone I thought was going to kill me slowly approached my helpless figure, I would have probably cussed the bastard out too.

I slowly put my hands on the release of the bear trap. I was glad this kind had a cleverly placed lever on the side that you had to twist in a certain way to let loose. If it wasn't, I would have to figure out another way to let him out or just leave the hunter entirely.

I clicked the lever, but didn't let go just yet. I wasn't watching my hands, but I was staring at the hunter underneath the hood. The hood shadowed his face, so I couldn't see his eyes. I really couldn't tell if he was looking at me from his point of view. Not sure if it mattered. I only thought of what the deadly claws could do to me if I even glance away from him.

My hands left the lever and the trap went loose.

I was already 15ft away watched as he used his hands to cover the bleeding from his wound. He screeched at me from a distance, but yelped as he accidently poked the swollen skin with the tip of his claw. I watched him closely.

I've seen and treated worse. But the way he whined about it, it seemed as if it needed to be amputated. But I wasn't _that_ caring. I pulled my gun back out and held it up to make sure he could spot it, if he even thought of trying anything funny.

I crept backwards as he pulled himself into standing position. He gave me a solid look before leaping away into the tree, and I lost him immediately.

I face palmed myself mentally. What have I done? Got yourself a one way ticket to hell, that's what. Then again, with something like that festering on his leg, he wouldn't be able to pin me down. He's probably withering in pain now; he just wanted to get away from the freak with a gun.

I sighed and began walking the other direction, towards the city again. I should have just kept walking in the first place. I knew that this would somehow just come back to bite me in the ass. But I checked my bullets, only a couple, but still some.

I saw the city over the horizon, tall buildings about to crumble, and the smell of waste became strong. I raised my gun and readied myself. Whatever didn't attack us getting out, will attack me getting in. I'm sure the infected will be light since we almost cleared it out, but I still can't let my guard down.

I was too preoccupied with figuring out how I was going to get in; I didn't notice the hovering shadow above me.


	4. The Waiting Game

**Disclaimer: I don't own Left 4 Dead**

\Among The Bodies: The Waiting Game

Getting into the city wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. Instead, all I had to do was hop over a fence. When we escaped, we had to fight a massive horde and ended up losing some supplies and gaining multiple injuries. I saw a couple of dead rotting bodies with bullet holes in them. I gave a guess to which body belonged to who.

The ones sprayed with bullets would be victims of Francis's shotgun, or maybe Louis's. Then the ones with precise headshots would either be mine or Bill's. Neither of us liked to waste bullets so we made sure to make everyone count. And I can aim pretty damn well if the target is close to me.

There's maggots and flies everywhere. It would be futile to just try to swat them away. I had a little bit of a fear of them eating me like mosquitoes, so I quickly left the scene. I ran away from the bloody mess and deeper into the city, almost tripping on bodies and bullet shells as I ran past. Sometimes I never notice how much I've done until I look at the aftermath.

The streets were the same way we had left them: complete chaos of cars and corpses. I spotted a little general store out of the corner of my eye and recognized it. It was a place we didn't have time, or even the energy to scavenge. You can't really pick out what you want from the store shelves when you've got an entire city's worth of insane cannibals on your back.

Walking through the front door, I found it was one of those ones where it spins and you could get trapped in. I hated those even before the break out. I remember getting stuck in one of these at the mall and having to call a friend to come help me out. It was embarrassing as hell.

The place already looked bare of anything useful; still it couldn't hurt to check around. I raised my gun up and glanced around every corner that I turned, just in case an infected decided to buy some milk or some pain killers for their aching headaches or stomachs.

Well, aren't you funny?

I decided not to question my sanity as the moment as doing so will just make me want to chase after my friends so much more. I already know that their long gone, without me. So the only thing I can do right now is survive and escape the city, this time heading south.

Something shuffling was heard behind me and I flung my gun up in defense, but met with nothing. I flicked on my flashlight. Still nothing. I pressed it aside as just being paranoid and continued searching for whatever would be of use to me.

I found period pads. Wonderful, the whole shelf was stocked while everything else was empty. A little plan came to mind and I stuff a pack into my back pocket. You never know, they could make good bandages one day. Though not really the same as a medkit, good for padding wounds.

Ok, so maybe I should be concerned on my decreasing level of sanity.

I thanked the gods when I discovered pain pills. I guessed it was that really strong stuff you needed to have an over the counter prescription, because it was hidden away inside some locked up drawer. What kind of general store has a pharmacist anyway? Well, I'm not complaining.

I almost tripped myself on the way out, trying to quickly move the spinning door. Taking a deep breath, I started walking again. It wasn't until the sun came out that I realized I was being followed.

It was hot. So I stopped for a split second and put my hands on my knees. I wiped the sweat from my forehead wiped it off on my hoodie that I had tied around my waist. As I was looking at the ground, I saw a defined shadow soar above my head and disappear with the shadow cast by the building next to me.

By the time I had my aim set, it wasn't even there, whatever it was. I figured I rather not wait to see if it would stick its head out again and kept moving, this time a bit faster and more alert.

I didn't care if it was a smoker, a hunter, or my nightmare of a winged infected. I thought for a moment. A hunter, maybe that same hunter that followed me from the abandoned house and into the woods. Now I was wishing it _was_ a winged zombie. Having the same hunter follow me for three days was just unbelievable. Then again, I did save its life…

…and it still wants to kill me. So much for gratitude.

Too focused on searching the rooftops, I ran straight into a car. Cringing at the loud horn, I waited for the howling of the infected and screams of an horde, but instead, a measly group of staggering cannibals stumbled out of a nearby broken window.

Thinking that they would be the first of many, and having so many bullets I decided not to waste them on five common infected. The first two went down without even throwing a hit; I simply smashed their skulls in with the butt of my handgun.

The other three weren't as easy as the two. I ended up getting caught from behind and fingernails dug into my arm. I swung around and kicked the infected in the stomach. It staggered back and landed on its comrade. I forced them both back onto the car I bumped into. This time I kicked him even harder and ended up crushing them against each other, splattering all over the hood.

I turned around, fist raised and ready to spill blood. But the infected that was left over was already dead, entrails out and everything. I raised an eyebrow and hoped that this was the same infected that ran at me, and that there wasn't another one lurking out there somewhere.

The poor guy had his guts and even some pieces of his ribs splayed out on the concrete. I didn't even care if he had just spontaneously combusted, I was just glad there wasn't another problem to take care of.

Carefully, I made sure not to get any slop on my shoes as I stepped over the body. They have surprisingly lasted throughout the apocalypse and I think I would like to keep them a little while longer.

It was getting darker a lot quicker than I thought it would, and I didn't have a proper way to get some rest. I'll just have to hold out until I get to the nearest saferoom. My stomach growled and I realized how long it has been since I truly ate something.

A startling noise caught my attention. I turned up towards the roof and finally saw the creature that has been stalking me for the last few days.

It was that same damn hunter, I could tell. It had somehow plastered duct tape to the spot where the bear trap had pieced him on his leg, but I could still see blood seeping through the edges and darkening the pants leg fabric.

I just glared him down, or really…up, since he was up higher than me. I still couldn't see his eyes. He was crouching on the edge of a two three story building, a small apartment.

Options ran through my head and all I could think of was shoot or run. Shooting would be useless, since I 'm sure that if I get pounced on my a hunter, no one would be around to save me, my gun would be knocked out of my hands and I would be a goner.

The running option sounded legit and a lot safer to me. I'd gotten faster, running from tanks and all, so out running a hunter, while unlikely, was still possible. So I gave him one last look, and then bolted.

I avoided cars and stepped over dead bodies. Not really caring on the quality of my shoes anymore, I stepped on a couple of corpses so rotten, that their chest actually caved in when I put my foot on them. I kept running, not looking back.

Rounding a corner, I looked for a route to escape. The hunter growled from behind me. Fear was beginning to creep up inside of me and I spotted a door, a back entrance into some sort of hotel.

Maybe I can lose him there. I bust open the door with my shoulder, and shut it behind me. I've learned overtime that infected, special or common can't open doors. I didn't care if they just lacked the intelligence to do so or preferred to knock them down entirely. I was just glad a simple door could be an efficient barrier against them.

It looked like it would have been a pretty nice hotel before shit hit the fan. It even had a big chandelier still hanging from the ceiling. Now, how that survived on that weak chain it hung from, escapes me. I can't stay in the first floor, he'll just brake down the door and corner me if I do. There were two ways up: elevator and staircase.

I took the staircase, obviously. Electricity was out almost everywhere. So trying to take the elevator would either have me fall to my death or just get stuck and starve.

Running up the stairs, I listened. From outside, I heard the howl of the hunter and figured he was at the door. By the way it sounded down in the lobby, he was trying to get through. I smirked. He wouldn't be able to open a steel door-

There as a loud bang, and I didn't even have to look back. I mentally scolded myself. Well, at least his little argument with the entrance had bought me some time.

I think I was on the 4th floor when I decided to hide. Looking down the hallway, I saw that some doors were open, while some were still closed. I ran halfway down the hallway and shut myself in an open one. Trying to open a closed one would just waste time as it could still be locked, and who knows if there is an infected in there.

Shutting the door, I locked it out of habit. Then, I turned around gun raised and ready to fire if something was really behind me.

It wasn't as messy as it should have been. In fact, it looked as if room service just left this place. The bed was neatly made, the curtains nicely drawn, the kitchen spotless and there wasn't a single blood stain.

My nose detected something and I pulled back the curtains. I immediately took a step back. There was bloody skid marks that led out the window, which I realized were open. I shut it, not wanting for anything unwanted to barge right through my hiding spot.

There was a bathroom, but I highly doubt there would have been any plumbing or medical supplies. Still, I raked in pills at the store, might as well check. You never know what wonders you can find. The bathroom door creaked open as I walked through.

The bathroom was as clean as the rest of the hotel room itself. It spotted the medical cabinet over the sink and I went straight for it. I flew it open and although it wasn't anything I can really do something with, it was something I could use later if I got the chance.

It was a bottle of women's perfume, two little bottles of that fancy hotel shampoo, and a packet of those fancy mints that room service leaves on your pillow. I snatched the mints first and ripped it open, popping one in my mouth.

It quickly replaced the lingering taste of bile with a minty fresh flavor, it would have been better with water, as it mixed a little with the bile itself, but I rather taste minty flavor gunk than have to bite my own tongue off when I couldn't take it anymore.

I was still savoring the lovely taste of the mint when I heard the window budge. I went into full survivor mode and ran behind the door. My mind raced and wondered that since I shut the window, how did anything get in? I took a deep breath and glanced around the corner.

Well, I was dead. The hunter I've been trying to lose was now in the same room as me. Behind him, the window was open enough for him to crawl through. He was in crouching position, sniffing the air. I held my breath. He sniffed the air and growled multiple times, then turned back to the window, unsatisfied and ready to leap. I let out the breath I was holding and instantly regretted it.

He stopped and turned to face the bathroom.

I heard him crawling over closer to me and did the best thing I could think of at the moment. The second he was in just the right spot, I slammed the door in his face. I heard a pain filled yelp and then silence. A little part of me believed that he just left, too frustrated to deal with me right now. But my hope was crushed when I heard claws scratching at the door.

I sat on the floor, leaning against the side of the bathtub and held the gun up, pointed directly where his head would be if the door wasn't there. There was whining coming from the other room, but I wasn't stupid enough to fall for the hurt puppy trick.

How much time has passed was important, but how tired I was getting was. Holding a gun up in the same spot and not eating anything for what feels like a month really strings people out, you know?

My eyelids started to drop as I fought against them doing so. I felt as if I took even a little nap, I wouldn't wake up again, or I would at least be missing a couple of limbs. I guessed that the hunter outside the bathroom was either gone, or still there and just waiting me out.

I know he could break down doors, so why didn't he this one? I thought about how he knew about the gun back in the woods and came to a conclusion. He must know I'm ready with a weapon should he choose to try and bust in. Smart.

That gave me an idea. I could still get a bit of rest, and keep that hunter from ripping me to shreds if I just keep him thinking that I'm armed and awake. That way, when I do really wake up, I'm rested and can take on a tired, injured hunter easily. Besides, we've been having this waiting game go on for what feels like hours, and I think it's night anyway.

Maybe luck was on my side today, and he really was gone. Maybe he thought I was just too much trouble for a single meal and decided he would just let me die of fear and starvation. Speaking of starving, I never checked the kitchen for anything edible since I got here. Probably should of done that before locking myself in here.

Keeping hold of my gun, I crossed both of my arms. My gazed still lingered on the door as I let sleep take me over. Now, I only hoped that what I was doing wouldn't get me killed. But if it does, at least I won't suffer.

I slumped against the tile, and the gun fell loose from my hands as I fell into slumber.


	5. Fishy Behavior

**Disclaimer: I don't own Left 4 Dead**

Among The Bodies: Fishy Behavior

The first thing that came to mind when I awoke was that I wasn't dead. The second was that I could be if that hunter is still out there. I picked back up my gun and aimed for the door again. It was so quiet. Now I seriously wondered if he was even out there anymore.

My stomach yelled at me for food and threatened to digest itself. I suppose I didn't have a choice but to check. I swear, if he's hasn't been out there, then I starved myself for nothing.

I remember indulging on tons of junk food and candy back in collage. Game nights would come and I would gain a few pounds or so. I used to be a little chubby before the first infection. Now, seeing myself in the bathroom mirror, I look like a little stick compared to what I should be.

Placing a hand on the door knob, it slowly turned. I swung the door open and held the gun up, searching the room. Completely empty. I gave a sigh of relief and put away the gun. I made a beeline for the kitchen, hoping that there was at least some sort of nutty bar or something in there.

I opened the cup bored and felt like crying. Whoever was here before me must be a fatty who really loved their food, because what a found surpassed any saferoom haul before this. It was all in cans, but everything things like canned peaches and things of the sort. Hell, they had canned fish.

Pulling out my gun, I gave it a good observation, thinking maybe I can shoot open a can. But that would just be wasting bullets and making too much noise anyway. I set it on the counter to focus on the task at hand.

Didn't even care to check the expiration dates, I grabbed the nearest can and hoped to god that they had working can opener around here. There as a can opener on the counter, but it as electric and needed electricity. Luckily, I found a can opener in a drawer, along with knives and forks and other silver ware.

Cracking open the can, I dug in. While I ate, I turned it around and check the expiration date. I was safe; it didn't expire until around next year. I'm just gonna go ahead and say that it was the same for the rest of the food in there.

Feeling food go down my throat was a feeling I cherished nowadays. Just having the mints was good enough, but eating and tasting real food made me feel like I could take on anything right now. I'm rested, filled ….but of course alone, and don't really have that many bullets left. Still, this city is pretty much empty and I can take on a couple of common infected unarmed.

I spotted the bed and smiled to myself. After spending the last two nights in a tree and on the hard tile floor, I would love to just lay back and rest for a little while. I mean, I know I need to start heading south, but I wanted to take advantage of right now.

I plopped myself on the bed, and my back and legs screamed with aching pain and I almost considered getting up again. But a minute passed and I was comfy enough to roll around. I put the can on the end table and just rolled like a pig, feeling the mattress underneath me.

Somewhere in the mist of my rolling, I felt something press on me on my back. I sat up, and looked at where my back was before. There was nothing there. I raised a brow to sheets and rolled over on my stomach.

Decided to take a chance, I leaned over. I peeked ever so slightly under the bed. I didn't see anything, just darkness. I was about to shrug and go back to my rolling. Then I heard a barely audible but frightening growl somewhere underneath the bed.

My heart thumped in my chest and I scrambled to the middle of the bed. This gave the whole 'monsters under the bed' a whole new meaning. My gun, I thought. I needed my gun. My hand flew to my waist, expecting to feel my pistol against my palm. Instead my hand felt air, and I remembered how I had left it in the kitchen, on the counter by a rusty can opener.

Options ran threw me and I stayed put in the middle of the bed. The growling had stopped, but I knew he was there. Maybe I could jump off and make a break for the kitchen. Will his claws amputate my legs before I even get close? Or maybe he'll try to tear one off by lunging out and latching on with his teeth.

I shuddered and listened for any sounds underneath me. It was dead silent. I made up my mind. My only chance at survival would be jumping and making a break for the kitchen. I took a deep breath, than slowly stood on the bed. I leaned forward, then lept.

Stumbling a bit, I hit the ground but I shot straight back up and grabbed my gun. At this point I would have just taken anything that could be used as a weapon. So when I grabbed the gun, I took the can opener too. It may sound stupid, but you never know when you could run out of ammo, and the sharp tip of the can opener was better than nothing.

I peered around the corner, the bed and everything else just the way it was before. Still, he was hiding. I approached the bed, keeping an eye on all four sides and careful of where my feet went as I circled it. Then, as fast as I could manage, I pulled up the end of the bed, gun out in front of me and observed what was underneath it.

Nothing. There was nothing but dust bunnies underneath. I sighed in both relief and something else. I really had to debate on whether or not my loss of sanity is going to be problem in my survival. Then again, insane people in the movies are always kick-ass and end up surviving to the sequel. So, that's a plus.

My stomach growled, as if to remind me of my abandoned can of delight I had left in my state of panic. I rubbed my sleepy eyes and sat on the end the bed, snatching up the half eaten food. The fork I had used earlier was nowhere to be found, but I didn't care.

I was leaning back, planning to enjoy the rest of my meal in peace. But something moved under the covers, and I lazily thought it my paranoia again and slowly turned to face behind me.

It wasn't my paranoia, it was that hunter. The one with the bandage on his leg. He gazed at me boringly, chewing on whatever was in his mouth, which I realized was part of the food I was trying to eat. He looked at me uninterested before swallowing the rest of the salted fish. MY salted fish.

It was a good full five seconds until I came to my senses and I flung whatever was in my hand in his direction, which happened to be the can. He dodged with ease, just with a simple move of his shoulders and it hit the wall behind him. It rolled out on the bed and he picked it up and started picking at the remains of the food with his razor sharp claws.

I as halfway across the room when I threw the can opener next, and he didn't even flinch. The handle bopped him on the arm, but that was about it. It was at that moment that I realized that I had a _gun_. I whipped it out and aimed for his head. He looked up to see the barrel lined up with him.

Now, it was a showdown. I held the gun, limited ammo, and scared. He was a hunter with deadly claws, which were still inside the can, poking around trying to scrape out what he could. I thought of our waiting game in the bathroom yesterday. Maybe, if I can lure him outside, I could trap him out there. I trapped him outside the bathroom, I can trap him outside the window, and I would just need to outsmart him.

I couldn't tell if he was threatened by my weapon or not, but by assuming how he was so scared of it in the woods, it was my best tool to chase him out. Now the real challenge was that I would somehow have to do that without firing a single shot, because I'm not going to have my little hiding place be invaded by a horde when they hear the gun shot.

Creeping closer and ever so slowly he began to ease backwards. My pistol was help out in front of me and I felt my heart pounding in my ribcage and had a small thought of him suddenly leaping forward to rip it out. I focused on the hunter so I didn't have to listen to myself think.

I positioned the gun and moved to the opposite side of the room facing the window, which he was now already crawling over. He growled once, twice. Warnings, I thought. I kept getting closer, clutching my pistol so hard my knuckles went white. I wanted to make it clear that I was not afraid to shoot him if he decided to attack.

He stopped, at the pane of the window, and I had to think of a way to scare him so he would jump out. I put up a tough guy stance, the kind I've seen Francis pull whenever Bill was teasing him again or he was trying not to show weakness from a painful wound.

One hand on the pistol, still pointing at the fish stealing hunter, I grabbed a pillow behind me with my other hand. I hung it over the barrel of gun and pulled the trigger.

The shot was muffled, but I bet his keen ears still heard it and it drove his own survival instincts into drive and he was gone out the window with a surprised screech before I clear away most of the feather floating in the air. Hesitating, I ran for the window, slamming it shut and pulling the torn curtains over it. The curtains won't really keep me hidden, but I still felt better with them covering.

I breathed in deeply, and then out. My lungs appreciated the air. My eyes wandered to the abused tin can of salted fish lying on the floor. Although most of it as gone, there was still a good bit amount of goodies left at the bottom, but I wouldn't even think of eating it now.

God only knows where those hunter's claws have been and I wasn't about to eat something that he's been touching. It was such a shame too; they weren't even that bad tasting.

Sighing, I plopped on the bed. My eyes felt heavy and I agreed with my sore body that I needed some rest. Just as I was about to doze off, a small annoying tapping sound made me sit up in alarm.

The window I thought. It was closed. I pulled back the curtains slowly, then all the way. It was just that ridiculous hunter again. I rolled my eyes. I was starting to not even see him as a threat anymore.

He was crouching again, but was resting on his heels. One of his claws was tapping on the glass and it was driving me crazy. There was no way in hell that I was going to get any sleep with him tapping on my window. I thought of options to make him leave.

I could try the pillow trick again, but that would just be wasting another bullet, and wasn't worth it, since he isn't in the same room as me.

Out of pure curiosity, I started tapping in the same rhythm that he was doing, hoping he would he as annoyed as I was and leap frog off. Instead, he stopped tapped. I was relieved, until he started again, but this time harder, like the glass was about to crack.

Glass cracking was not good. I scanned the room for options and my vision landed on the can of fish. A plan hatched itself inside my mind and I grabbed it and held it behind my back so the hunter wouldn't see.

I raised a fist, banged on the window once. The hunter jumped back in surprise and watched me carefully. Opening the window as little as I could manage, I slipped the can out, and shut it again. All while he watched. He eyed the can, then glared at me, then the can again before digging through whatever was left.

After watching him eat for a good minute, and I officially declared him harmless and pulled the curtains back over the dark sky. I stumbled back to the bed, and dug myself a barrow in the covers and waited for sleep to overtake me. This was _way_ better than sleeping in a tree, or on hard tile.

It started raining, I could hear the pitter patter of the water on the patio. It was relaxing and I enjoyed the sounds as it was a refreshing change from the noises of moans and puking from infected.

I thought I heard a tap on the window for a second, but I drifted off before I could think about it.


	6. The Witch

Disclaimer:** I do not own Left 4 Dead.**

Among The Bodies: The Witch

The first thing I did when I woke up was crack open a can of sliced pineapples. The fish from last night left a bad taste in my mouth, and I realize how unhealthy it was to eat them straight from the can. It didn't matter, it was the first kind of 'meat' I've had in a long time.

I didn't see that hunter again, not after distracting him with the leftover fish. I supposed he just ran off, probably searching to go find some other survivor to hunt down. I half expected him to still be at the window when the sun came up.

My joy of the hunter leaving and the semi-fresh food in my mouth was putting me in a really good mood. For once I had gotten a good night's rest, and my back felt as it did before the infection. In fact, I feel as if I could just take on the world today!

Better not jinx it though.

Gulping down the remains of the pineapples, I reached for another. I wondered why this place wasn't sacked like it should have been. if there was any other survivor lucky enough to come across this stuff, they wouldn't just leave it here. Unless that certain survivor got killed, then that would be a better explanation.

I threw my second can in the sink, that was already starting to collect cans thanks to my overeating, and I stretched my back and legs. I'm going to take the food with me, I decided. I didn't plan on being that survivor in my 'theory', so I need to take as much as I could carry.

My best bet was to find something to help me carry the goodies with. There's the boxes underneath the bed, but that would just slow me down. Shooting would be near impossible while trying to lug a heavy box around. No, I needed something with straps, like a purse, or something of the sort. My attention turned to the room's storage closet. I hope my luck hasn't ran out yet.

There was a small back pack, hidden in the closet. A cookie monster back pack at that. My eyes teared up looking at it; thinking of the poor child who probably turned infected and left behind their cute little back pack. I pulled it out, ignoring my thoughts of infected children running around attacking people.

Being in an apocalypse and all, an image of body parts or bones stuffed inside the pack imbedded itself in my head. Getting a little nervous, I took a deep breath and unzipped the zipper.

Nothing was inside but a couple of gum wrappers and a single chewed up pencil. I sighed. Poor kid must have been a 3rd grader or something like that. At least I could make use of the pack. Thankfully, the straps on the pack had adjustable lengths, so while it was small, it could fit around my back no problem.

I sat the pack on one of the kitchen counters and started loading it with food. It held more than I thought it would of, for a small size. Only two or three cans were left when it was full. I could't really stuff them in my pockets; I knew this, still tried though.

Having no other choice, I would have to leave the left over supplies. I just didn't have any room to put it, and I can't risk losing anything while fighting a horde or something, so maybe some other survivor will come across them. Though unlikely, I'm just going to believe that does gonna happen. It makes me feel better about leaving them.

As I left, I tried scrapping off some dried blood off my shoes as I crept down the stairs. I gave up; my shoes are pretty much beyond saving at this point. I'll have to make note to try and scavenge for new ones next time I see a clothes store. It would be unfortunate if my shoe bottoms fell out while outrunning a tank. Very unfortunate.

Peeking out side, I checked my surroundings, in case of any nasty surprises. Nothing but bodies and bullet shells, just like before. I wondered if the whole city was like this. A rotting wasteland. It wouldn't be that hard to get through then. Still, I should keep my guard up.

Remembering that my ammunition count was low, I glared at my dirty palms. I can't fist fight every infected I see, and I never got the chance to do my regular cracking of my fingers. If I was to last much longer, I would have to find a melee weapon, or better yet, bullets.

Surely there wasn't much ammo around the city, having already gone through it before, but I've been lucky so far with the food and the backpack, so maybe I'll find something heavy to bash some heads in at least.

It was only until I was halfway down the street before I noticed a shadow on the ground soar across view. My thoughts went to 'hunter' and I immediately pointed my weapon towards where the shadow went. Smokers wouldn't be able to jump across buildings as fast as that.

The thought about running back inside crossed my mind, but I needed to keep moving. The food I had found in the apartment would only last me so long.

Although I couldn't see him, it was obvious he was near. Being a hunter and all, I was sure he was very good at being sneaky, unluckily for me.

Wiping the sweat off my forehead with my other hand, I watched for any sign of him. It was the middle of the afternoon and if I couldn't find him in the daylight, then it was going to be extremely difficult for me when the night came.

I groaned. Night would be a completely new problem now that my friends weren't here with me. Usually none of us would be sleeping at the same time; there would always be someone awake to take watch for a while, then trade shifts throughout the night.

Sleeping alone in a infected city was dangerous, but then again it was even more so in the woods, so I might just make it if I can find a place that can be locked up tight.

A saferoom, I thought. Nothing can infiltrate a saferoom, except maybe a tank. But there were only so many of those in the city, most of them dead by now. While I'm sure most of the saferooms were completely raided out, it would still provide me with a safe place to get some shut eye.

Saferoom it is then. I was sure I could spend the night hiding in another tree, or lock myself away in a building, but I'm not going to take a chance. I've come way too far to be killed in my sleep.

I spotted him: perched up on a fire escape, not too far away, but far enough where my pistol wouldn't reach him. I eyed him closely. Why didn't he jump me yet? Maybe his leg was still healing and he was waiting for it to recover before he chased me. Or maybe he just liked playing with his prey….

Carefully, I watched him. He looked almost like every other hunter I've seen, from the outside at least, since his face was halfway concealed.

I wasn't close enough to see exact detail, and I never really paid much attention to his appearance before. But I wondered what he would look like underneath the hood. Probably like a smoker, with tumors and deformations on his face. I shuddered at the thought.

He sat down on the railing, his feet hanging off the edge. He didn't make any more movements after that, like he was a statue. Just waiting for me to start running huh? It's all about the chase, isn't it?

Turning on my heel I started walking again. The plan was to pretend that I was ignoring him, or that I just didn't care. My thoughts were: either he'll lose interest or he'll become inpatient, so he'll leave me or I'll kill him.

There were a couple of stragglers up ahead. More than ten, but they haven't noticed me yet. I could sneak around them, risky, but better than facing them head on. Getting low, I stayed close to the bricks of the buildings, and almost didn't notice the car I was about to bump into. As careful as I could be, I narrowly avoided it by squishing myself against the wall.

There was an ally around the corner, and if I could get to it, I could walk a different route away from the infected. I started to feel a little relieved. As I inched closer and closer, I thought I could hear crying.

My suspensions were right. Rounding the corner, only a couple feet away was a sobbing, but ever so petrifying witch.

The common infected were wandering closer to my position, and I had to think fast. Being as discreet as I could, I glanced at the witch. I've snuck by witches before, and seeing as how I haven't lost my touch just yet, I might as well try it now.

Slowly, I crept against the brick of the building, moving around a dumpster and almost stepping in a puddle. I didn't want even the smallest of sound to be made. My very life depended on it. I took a deep breath and let it out as softly as I could.

But not soft enough.

The witch started rising, and I felt my heartbeat do the same. Her tear filled eyes left her hands and turned towards me and I could feel the sadness and hatred radiating from her. Her clawed hands opened and closed as she turned her whole body to face me. My breathing uncontrollably fast and I knew I was done for.

She was at full height already and sprung in my direction, ready to kill. However, someone beat her to me.

Hunters are a special infected who's greatest skills were stealth and rapid motion. So I shouldn't have been surprised when one landed down directly in front of me. However, I did not expect him to have his back be facing me, and lunging out for the witch instead.

I wasn't crouching anymore. Standing at full height, I was getting an excellent view of the scene that's happening in front of me. His claws dug into her ribcage, while she used her arms to defend herself. Witches only attack those who startle them, so she wouldn't hurt the hunter, who was infected just like her, right?

Wrong. Her clawed hand pierced his abdomen, and the hunter paused for a second. The sharp points were buried deep in the front of his hoodie. But instead of leaping off of her like I thought he would, he raised his hand high and brought it down, completely severing the witches arm from the shoulder. I heard a sick ripping, tearing sound as it was removed from her person.

The witch screeched in pain as her blood pooled out onto the sidewalk, her other hand trying to push her attacker off of her. Her severed arm spazzed on the ground, as if it still had the owner attached to it. It bounced closer to my legs and in panic; I yelped and kicked it away from me, startled.

Covering my mouth, I realized my mistake. The common infected from before had now been alerted to my presence, and were now headed in my direction. They ignored any sounds made from other infected, but my little outburst was all they needed to go into a rage.

Bringing the gun up, I focused on the commons. The witch and the hunter still fighting distracted the m enough to where I could aim correctly. I shot 4 in the head, no problem. Until my gun went click.

Screaming at that moment was tempting, but that would just bring a horde, and that was the last thing I would need right now.

Running was also an option, but they would just follow me until I had plenty of infected after me. I would have to take care of them now, so they wouldn't attract anymore.

Searching the area for a weapon, nothing caught my eye. There was nothing useful in sight and they were getting closer by the second. The witch's screams were changing into chokes and coughs of blood, but the hunter was still clawing at her, splattering blood all over himself, and the common infected as they passed by them.

I was panicking, and panicking is never good. I began backing up when something hard and cylinder popped out of my over filled back pack and onto the ground. This gave me an idea.

Placing my palms on the straps of my backpack, I thought of a quick plan. I took the bag off my shoulders and rammed the side of it into the head of the nearest infected. The man whom I just hit backed into a wall, and I hit him again, smashing his head between the wall and my bag.

It was heavy and hard to swing, but I turned and dodged a blow from behind. Turning again, I smacked a woman and unlike the man, she fell to the ground after the first hit.

The bag was smacked from my hand and I was pounded into the ground. I felt feet kick my stomach and something stepping on my hair. I bit my tongue from yelling, and reached out. My hand grabbed hold of a leg, and brought them down with me.

I crawled on top and delivered a few well served punches to the face. My hand hurt, and the woman I was on top of continued to try and fight me off. Fingernails scratched my face and I hissed in pain, for both my cheek and my knuckles. She took a blow to the temple and ceased to move.

Panting, I tried to catch my breath. I _really_ needed to find a weapon, and fast. I can't keep fighting them like this.

My heart rate was still racing, but my breath was slowing down. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a limb. An arm, to be more exact, a long, pale, clawed witches arm.

My eyes widened. Distracted, I had temporarily forgotten about the battle between the witch and the hunter. I rotated to face them and gasped at what I saw.

The witch was dead, no doubt. Her throat had been torn clean out, and her chest was open and hollow. There were bodies of other common infected around her, the ones that I didn't take out. There was also another body, the body of the same hunter who has been following me these past few days.

My throat was dry and I started to choke for some unknown reason. I slowly limped over to him, ignoring the now prominent pain in my left ankle, and dropped to my knees at his side.

I have to admit that for a minute I was scared he was going to spring up and slaughter me like in some movie. But after poking him, then slightly shaking him, I was getting scared of him not getting up at all.

Tears flowed from my face and I didn't even know why. I was actually worried, afraid for something like him. This time I shook him a little harder, but he still didn't budge.

I was about to flip him over onto his back when he emitted a small, annoyed growl, muffled by the concrete. Gasping in surprise, I crawled a foot away from him. He was bleeding from his stomach area, I suppose where the witch had stabbed him, and his blood starting to create a nasty pool.

If he didn't get help, then there's no doubt he would die. I wasn't going to let him starve in the woods, but would I let him bleed out on the street?

Scooting closer, I quietly and grabbed hold of his arm, trying to hoist him up with me as I stood up myself, which was pretty difficult to do when my left ankle wasn't really in best condition. He growled, but I ignored him. There is no possible way he could do any harm to me in his condition.

We needed to find shelter, and fast. If I were to stumble on any infected right now, I couldn't defend myself and hold him steady at the same time.

I dragged him through the ally, and his weight on me was getting heavier and heavier. I bit my tongue again when I tripped over myself, barley catching my balance before we both hit the ground. I hoisted him back up and continued to drag him until we were in a completely different ally then where we were before.

The ally was long and narrow, with doors on both sides of it.

Without thinking twice, I headed towards the nearest one. It wasn't locked, so I struggled to free a hand to open it and shut it behind me before taking a look around. It was an office with a window to the rest of the inside. Peering through it, I assumed we just walked through the back door to a gas station.

I know that I should of checked for any infected, and supplies. But I was so worn out, the floor was starting to look like a good sleeping spot.

I sat the hunter down up against the desk not so gently, and plopped down next to him. I couldn't see his eyes, but his lack of response from being handled so roughly told me he was either out cold, or dead. I hoped it's the former.

Pulling up my knees to my chest, I rubbed my fingertips over my swollen ankle. It burned, but so did the scratches on my cheek. I rubbed them too. They didn't feel bad enough to where they would leave scars. I sighed with relief and exhaustion.

Surely I had pills on me somewhere. But the health kit I was carrying was basically empty, and I know I didn't have much of a bandage roll left, so I would save them. I yawned, and for a second in think the figure next to me stirred, but I'm not sure.

My eyes drooped closer together and I struggled to keep them open. It was no use though. I leaned back, resisting the urge to lie on the floor and drifted off to a silent, dark place in the back of my mind.

One thing came to mind before I fell asleep: I had left the cookie monster bag, along with all the food inside of it, in the ally way.

* * *

**Apology for the late update. I already have most chapters written, but I'm at a writers block at the moment. So here's something maybe you guys can help me with: What should be the hunter's NAME? Reviews are greatly appreciated and if I use what you suggest, I will credit you. Now good day! **


	7. Doctor Zoey

Among The Bodies: Doctor Zoey

I woke with a moan. My stomach was rumbling and the wooden floor didn't make as much good as a bed as I'd hoped it would of. The throbbing pain in both my cheek and ankle prevented me from dozing off, and I sat up, reaching for whatever I had left of the kit I had brought.

Opening it up, I found just some disinfected wipes and half a roll of bandages, like I thought. I sighed, put the kit to the side and pulled my ankle into view. It wasn't as swollen as it was yesterday, so it must be starting to heal already.

I was happy I wouldn't have to use anything on the ankle. If I could bear it just a little while longer, then it would heal itself up in no time. My cheek on the other hand…

Running my fingers over the marks, they didn't feel like it would leave permanent scars. If I had a mirror, than I could analyze the total damage, but I think it'll heal before I even find one.

Just to be safe though, I ran a wipe over my cheek. I wanted to make sure there was nothing nasty on the scratches, in case of it getting worse.

Pulling back the wipe, I saw that it was dirty and contained traces of blood. Disgusted, I pulled back out another, and wiped my entire face. My face stung a little, and it smelled like rubbing alcohol, but I felt a little bit cleaner. I threw the soiled wipes behind me, out of view.

It was dark inside the office, darker than when I first came in. I fumbled to my feet. Keeping my hand on the desk, I reached over to the wall and patted around for a light switch. I stopped mid search and cursed. There isn't any power, idiot, the light switch isn't going to work.

I sighed to myself. Blinking, I took a look around my surroundings. It was a nice looking office, maybe a little messy. I could make out a few objects in the dark that were close enough to me. A desk, a chair, a bookshelf, a table with a lamp on it, a cookie monster bag….

Wait…didn't I leave that in the ally?

The bag was fully intact, sitting quite close to where I was asleep. I stared at the bag suspiciously, knowing full well that it wasn't going to stare at me back. It was left in an ally way after I had used it as a weapon against a couple commons and a witch, what was it doing back here?

It took a moment, but the memory of yesterday rushed back to me and I dropped to my knees, glaring at the bag. I blamed him, the hunter. The same one who I saved in the woods, and decided to hunt me down anyway. I should have shot him when I had the chance…

Then again, if it weren't for him, that witch would have reduced me to a pile of shredded flesh. But didn't I bring him here with me?

As if on cue, sounds was heard from behind. I twisted around and sat on my knees, instinctively holding my handgun up, even though it's useless now.

He was even harder to see in the dark. But I could make out the outline of his figure in the corner, about 3ft from me. Swallowing the lump in my throat, my heart started racing. He was crouched on the floor, with his hands holding his stomach. I couldn't tell if he was looking at me or not, his hood is always too low.

I shot a quick glance down to his hands. I could see dried blood where he was clutching, so I guess his injury he received from the witch had stopped bleeding. Holding the gun up, I put on a brave look. Surely he's not smart enough to know that I basically have no way of defending myself, right?

He hesitated, as if waiting for me to chuck something at him. (Which I really considered grabbing the lamp and doing just that) then started to move ever so slowly forward.

In a moment of panic, I flicked my gun's flashlight on. He stopped moving and I scooted as far back as I could until I reached the desk again.

This was it. He was going to jump me, rip out my throat, my chest, and probably eat my face. After all, infected have to eat something, right? I've always wondered what they ate regularly...

My hands were shaking, but I still kept them up. He didn't even seem scared from the weapons, just _uninterested_. If he wasn't threatened by me, then he thought I was weak. I must be, if he won't even put any effort into killing me. Accepting my fate, I breathed deep and waited for him to spring at me.

Instead, he crawled _around_ me, going straight for the backpack. He pulled the pack open forcefully, not really caring about the issue with the zipper and snatched a can up from inside. Bringing it up to his mouth, he bit at the end, trying to open the can.

He made a little hole in the top. He sniffed the insides, made a dissatisfied sound, and then roughly tossed the can towards my direction.

Still a little stunned by the fact that he wasn't turning me into confetti, I yelped at the incoming projectile, crawling away from where it had landed near my position.

Green peas spilled out from the opening of the can, but I watched the hunter instead of the wasted food on the floor. He continued to pull out cans, sniff them, then throw them side. He stopped at one and pried it open completely with his teeth.

I bit my lip, thinking on how painful that could be to open something with your own teeth. Well, I guess he couldn't really be bothered about something like that anymore…but still!

Using his fingers like forks, he picked out the meaty substances from the inside and gobbled it up in record time. It was messy as hell, and I almost got a little sick by watching him gulf it down. Still, better the processed food than me.

He turned to faced me and I stiffened. My arms hurt from holding them up for too long and I brought them down long ago. Though I doubt that keeping them up would have worked anyway. Glancing at the abandoned green peas, he leaned over and pushed them towards me, before returning to his meal.

The can rolled over until it bumped my knee. I narrowed my eyes at it, and him. Picking it up, I stuck a fingernail in the opening and tried to pry it open. No use. Mentally, I groaned.

I scooted back into the corner he was originally in, as quiet and quickly as possible. The hunter didn't seem to notice, or he just didn't care. He was still fully occupied.

Keeping an eye on him, I tilted the can back and poured out some peas into my hand, before shoving them into my mouth. They were dry and chewy, but still good.

Emptying the can out, I sighed, I haven't eaten peas since last thanksgiving. Now all I needed was some chicken and mashed potatoes. I let out a small chuckle, and then stopped short when I remembered that I wasn't alone here.

I guessed I had distracted him, or he had already finished, because he was glaring in my direction and I didn't have anything else to do but glare at him back. Like before, the temptation to hurdle the empty can in my grasp was creeping up, but that would only end in disaster.

He wasn't really doing anything that endangered me in anyway, and hasn't since he's been on my trail. But I can't let my guard down so easily. For all I could know, I could just be a game to him.

He moved and I flinched by impulse. Though, I felt stupid when he picked up the backpack and started to drag it over to me. He slung it over, and it landed with a thud in front of me.

Was he the one who went and retrieved my stuff? An image of a golden retriever wearing a hoodie fetching newspaper popped up in my head and I let out a nervous, uncontrollable giggle. I didn't know what to do at this point.

Not really understanding what he was trying to get at, I unzipped the backpack and reached over to put all the cans he had thrown out back inside. I made sure to keep my attention on him while I refilled the pack, making sure he wasn't going to try anything funny.

My eyes trailed down to the front of his hoodie. Hunched over, it was hard to see what exactly was on the front of it. Determined to see, I casually pointed my gun, hence my flashlight, at his lower abdomen. I expected him to back away or lash out at me. But he was as still, and emotionless as a statue.

Dried blood, with obvious holes in the fabric where the witch's claws had seriously hurt him. I started to feel the same pity I had felt for him back in the woods and quickly finished filling up the bag before I gave myself any ideas.

Speaking of the woods, I wondered how his leg was doing. I stole a glance at his leg, unable to think of anything else. Though I'm sure he knew I was looking directly at it, since I had shined my light on it on reflex.

Like before, he still had the same duct tape over his wound. I inwardly cringed on what it might feel like when he had to take it off. That is, if he'll take it off. Sure, the tape would stop the bleeding, but without proper treatment, the wound he had could have only gotten worse in this period of time.

If his leg was as bad as I thought it was, then how did he manage to hurl himself across rooftops in such incredible speed and distance. Maybe infected didn't feel any pain? No, that wouldn't be it. If the infected didn't feel any pain, than he wouldn't have made such whiny noises when his leg was still caught in the trap.

And the witch in the ally wouldn't have howled about her arm…

Damn, I owed him that didn't I? No, I already saved him once, but then he had to go and fetch my pack for me, and it just wouldn't be right if I didn't show gratitude. Especially if he had shown his earlier, though in a much more…violent way.

My medkit still had disinfected wipes and bandages left over. Not to mention the pain pills I had found in the wreckage 3 days ago. But I'll need to save those, I wasn't hurt all that bad. I briefly thought on whether or not it was really such a good idea to get close to him, then I remember having the same thought back in the woods when I had saved him.

Holding out my cautiously, like a scared child trying to pet a huge, mean bulldog. The hunter's glare traveled from me to my hand, then back to me. Still no change of emotion. No fear and no threating stance. I took that as a good sign.

I took a deep breath, and inwardly hoped that it wouldn't be my last. Ever so slowly, I moved closely and put my hands on his shoulders as gently as I could. He tensed. I thought about pulling them back and forgetting the whole thing, but instead applied pressure and very carefully pushed him down.

It was basically the only way I could tell him to 'sit', since I'm guessing he wouldn't understand me if I talked to him. Amazedly, he leaned back and sat on the floor.

Nervously, I pulled my hands away from him, in case he had any thoughts about tearing them off. He still didn't show any obvious signs of wanting to slaughter me, so I took another deep breath and worked on the duct tape.

The duct tape was tight, and I had to pull quite hard before it even began to unravel. Every few second or so I would glance at the leg's owner. He still had that blank, statue look. But I knew he was watching me closely. This was making me feel unbelievably unconformable, but at least I wouldn't feel guilty later.

I wasn't sure whether to blame my soft side, or my depleting sanity that keeps bringing up this feeling.

The tape was getting thinner until it was down to the last layer. I began removing it, when I heard a painful, defined_ hiss_ from beside me.

Freezing, my hands were still on his make-shift bandage as I rotated my head to face his stare. Though I couldn't see his eyes, he looked pissed, judging by the snarl he had painted on his face and his repeatedly twitching fingers. My chest was thumping and I was sure he could hear it. I was suddenly worried about the safety of my wellbeing.

Taking my hands off him and placing them in my lap, I waited for the continuing noises he made to stop. It seemed like forever before he stopped making the horrible growling noises. I stared at my palms. I'm already this far, I can't stop now. Besides, that guilty feeling will haunt me if I decide to chicken out.

I summoned whatever courage I had left, grabbed the remaining tape and ripped it off like a Band-Aid.

The hunter yelped in pain and pulled his leg away from my reach. Startled, I flew back wards a little, half expecting him to swipe at me. Instead, his hands hovered around the now bleeding and exposed wound. He scowled at me, and I let out a small whimper in response.

While he focused on his legs, I snatched the leftover bandages and wipes. Getting a good look at the entire mess, I felt a little bile creep up in my throat, but I swallowed it back down. I've seen and treated worse, this was nothing.

Now the only problem was how I was going to get close again. Carefully, I edged over to him. He saw me coming, and growled. I ignored him; he did the same thing back in the woods. This was for his own good.

I won't lie, I was scared as hell. Reaching out a hand, I placed one on his arm and it jerked back in response. His fingers were constantly twitching and his focus shifted to me.

Giving it my best shot, I tried to make a comforting gesture. Instead of him calming down as I had hoped, he only became confused. But it was better than enraged.

Moving my hands to the wound, he instinctively moved it away. Rolling my eyes, his behavior reminded me of Francis whenever I would try to help him. Every time, that biker would act like a child and say he would do it himself, only to make it worse, much like the hunter and his beloved duct tape.

Grabbing the end of his pants leg, I held it in place, much to the hunter's dislike. Now, I could clearly just feel the anger radiating off his form. But if he really couldn't handle the pain, then he should just slice me up, because I'm not stopping now.

The thumping in my chest had reduced back to a normal heartbeat. I cleaned up the blood as much as I could, but when I tore off the tape, I opened the wound again, thanks to the tape sticking to the skin.

He was losing enough blood where a normal person would at least be dizzy by now, but no, he was fully awake and glaring bullet holes in my person.

Then I remembered the fact I had period pads in my back pocket. Reaching over, I pulled it out, and stared at it for a good minute. When I had scavenged them, I thought they would have made good bindings, though I didn't know how right I was.

Unwrapping one, I placed it on the wound, then wrapped some bind around it to hold it in place. It had worked, and the hunter wasn't glaring at me anymore, but at the strange invention strapped to his leg instead.

It had looked absolutely ridiculous.

it was getting harder to breath, until I couldn't hold it in anymore. I let out a genuine, truly entertained laugh. Probably the most enjoyable one I've had in a while. This was the dumbest and weirdest thing I have ever done, and it actually worked to boot.

The hunter, still a little fazed about the now fading pain from his leg, looked up to the sound of my laughter. I put a hand over my mouth to muffle any sounds I make incase I attracted anything unwanted. But the giggle I was emitting was still audible.

Catching my breath, I reminded myself that I wasn't done just yet. I still had his stomach to do. With a smile still plastered on my face, I turned to the hunter.

"Now, that wasn't so bad, right?"

The hunter remained silent and the smile fell from my face. He wasn't like a survivor, Zoey; he doesn't understand a single word you just said. I signed, resorted by to my gloomy, routine mood.

Checking the amount of medical supplies I had left, I found that I was almost out of disinfectant wipes, but still had a good amount of bandages leftover. This will have to do.

Placing my hand on his arm again, I got his attention. He still seemed a little peeved from earlier, but he wasn't seething with fury. My attempts to make him lie down were all failures, so I'll have to do this while he sat up.

I held a wipe and showed it to him. I was hoping that by now he understood that I was trying to help him. But as I made a move to try and life his shirt, he lurched away and paddled backwards a couple feet.

I furrowed my brows. "I won't hurt you; I just need to see the damage…" Coaxing him with gentle words wasn't going to help, I figured. He didn't budge.

As I moved closer, he backed away. I tried to get near him again, and he started to stand up. Sighing, I rolled my eyes. This wasn't going to work. There was no way he was going to let me get close to him again after what pain he went through just trying to fix his leg, and I was sure the witch's wound was much worse.

Standing up along with him, I tried taking baby steps towards his figure. That only resulted in him howling out a warning. That made me stops in my tracks. He hasn't hurt me yet, but maybe this time he's serious, and I might as well have a death wish. Only one way to find out.

I took a minuscule step back, acting like I was backing off. The hinter seemed to relax and the snarl on his face faded away. I smiled ever so sweetly, even if he couldn't read facial expressions, and then made a leap for him.

Ironic, the survivor trying to catch the hunter.

Catching him by surprise, I grabbed him around the middle and brought him back down to the floor. He was taller than me, I discovered. But that didn't matter. His injured leg crumbled, and he was no match for me.

For some reason, he didn't even try to pry me off. Instead, he screeched and growled at me and my sudden intrusion in his private space.

I poked him in the stomach, around the area of injury and his wailing and shrieking reduced to a pained whimper. Yeah, he definitely won't ever want me near him after this. I don't blame him.

He collapsed to the floor and I fell with him. I lifted up his shirt and analyzed the damage. He growled reluctantly, but his growl's pitch went high when I applied the alcohol wipe. It would have been funny if I hadn't had been the cause of it.

He was quiet most of the treatment. I guess being bested by a girl, twice, seeing how the witch really did a number on him, could really hurt a man's pride. I was sure he had pride, since he still has life preservation

The injury wasn't as bad as I thought. The poor guy had 4 clean holes and they weren't as deep as they should have been. I'm guessing his skin hardened when he turned. I wondered if it was like that with every infected.

Ignoring his occasional noises of pain, (He can suck it up) I use the last of the bindings to wrap around his middle. It didn't take as long as I expected and was easier to treat, aside from the forcing him to lift his shirt part. I smiled at my handiwork. Since the breakout, my skills on medical things and such increased overtime. I had the right to be proud of myself.

Leaning back, I looked him right in the face. "We're even now, got it?"

I just wanted to state the fact, not caring if he could understand me. It just felt a little better if I could say it out loud. The hunter didn't answer in any growl or snarl, but instead, leaned over and_ licked_ my scratched cheek. I responded in a non-grateful manner.

The next hour went on with him poking at the pad strapped to his limb, and me using the very last wipe to decontaminate the scratch on my face.

* * *

**Yes, period pads. Useful for lots of things.**

**Instead of just me deciding on the hunter's name, I've opened a poll on my profile to help choose which is best for him. His name won't be official until chapter 10, so there is plenty of time to vote! Please vote, and once again, if I use the name you suggested, you will be credited. Bye Bye!**


	8. Jacket Mishap

**Disclaimer: I don't own Left 4 Dead**

Among The Bodies: Jacket Mishap

The gas station didn't have much to offer. I left the office to see if I could scavenge anything and all I found was a dead body wedged in-between the front doorway. I left through the back entrance again, not wanting to go near it.

The hunter, whom I guessed had enough time prodding at his make-shift bandage, followed me not-so-discreetly out the door. Turning around, I narrowed my eyes as he walked, not crawled, but walked through the door. The idea of shutting it behind me came too late as he was already by my side.

Readjusting the bag on my shoulders, I stopped walking and glared at him. The way he limped over to me showed that he was still in pain over his limb. I wondered how he was going to be able to leap great distances if it really hurt him.

He wasn't threat, let him be, I thought. Spinning on my heel, sticking close to the wall, in case of anything popping out around the corner. He followed me as we walked, staying within at least 10ft of me. I rolled my eyes at his creepy actions. He was starting to remind me of a lost puppy, especially when he fetched my bag earlier.

I sighed. He wanted to trail me? Fine, not like he'll do anything anyway. Something shiny caught the corner of my eye. I spotted a crowbar down the alleyway, and silently thanked the gods, or whoever was in charge.

My handgun was securely place in the back of my pants before I leaned down to pick up my new weapon. It was heavy, but not as heavy as the bag when I had to use it to swing around. I tested it a little by twirling it around my fingers a bit. Something I'll have to get used to, but definitely useful.

Ignoring the presence behind me, I continued until I reached the end of the ally. Then, I felt wind pass me and I spun around to see that he wasn't there anymore. Confused, I looked up and down the streets, and then observed the top of buildings.

He was atop one not too far away in plain sight. He watched me from afar, like he did before. If he kept this up, I just might hit him upside the hood if he ever got close to me again. The hunter was starting to be more trouble than he was worth.

Sparing him one last glance, I started walking down the left side of the street. It still looked deserted, but I wasn't going to take any chances this time. Holding up the crowbar, I made sure to be ready incase of an ambush.

I didn't have to look to know he was soaring behind me. The sun was making its way to the highest point in the sky and I only had to look to the ground to see his shadow pass by.

It was getting hotter, I noticed. I tightened my jacket around my waist. My ponytail had hairs sticking out and I really wished I had some kind of deodorant or even perfume right now. The sweat and grime I've been picking up on really did a number to my sense of smell.

Passing by a store, I gave in and pried open the doors to get inside. It took one heave, and the wooden boreds on the door came loose. Taking a peek, it was all clear. Relief filled my skin when it felt the sudden arrival of shade.

I didn't know what store it was, but I assumed it was a clothing store. Some racks were empty, while some still held an entire load. Fumbling through one, I found a hoodie, green with flowers on the front. I put it back; green wasn't my color, it resembled boomer bile too much.

Not finding anything that fit me, or smelled any better than what I did now, I gave up. I would just have to bear the unbelievable stench longer. Moving around some more, hoping to find something good. Nothing came of interest, and I almost left.

That is, until I found a bottle of frebreze hidden away. I grinned at my epic find and removed my jacket to start hosing it down.

The bright red fabric had reduced to a muddy more brownish than red color. I sighed at the ruined clothing piece. It was my favorite, and now it was equivalent to rags. There wasn't a single spot on it that wasn't stained or worn down.

I sprayed it down. I knew the result wouldn't be as good as a good actual washing, but it would at least disguise the smell a little bit. Half the bottle was empty by the time I decided the front was done. Flipping it over, I used the rest on the back of it.

The bottle was completely drained and I threw it to the side. Holding it up, I took a good whiff. It smelled so sugary sweet, my throat began to choke up. Still better than the usual grime. It was still a little damp.

Inside my head, I dreaded having to go outside again. I breathed deep and left the store, the now way too fresh smelling jacket tied to my waist again. I held up the crowbar, looking around. The hunter was nowhere in sight, but I didn't doubt he was somewhere near.

Something landed behind me. I twisted around and he was there, much closer then I would of liked anyway. He had one of my jacket's hanging sleeves in his clutches. Bringing it up to his nose, he back up disgusted, as did I.

From the way he reacted, I take it he didn't like the new fragrance I carried around with me. I huffed; he'll have to get over it. A thought came to mind that I may or may not have gone overboard with the frebreze.

I began to walk away from him, not caring about his dislike of my current perfume. He rubbed his sleeves over his nose, grunting softly. I detected footsteps, and assumed he was following me close distance again.

Ignoring his presence once more, I continued walking along the concrete. Every minute or so, I would turn around to glance at him. He was up to something, I could just feel it. I just didn't know what yet.

It wasn't until I heard sounds of cloth ripping that I realized that my hoodie wasn't wrapped around me anymore. I gasped at what lay before me. It was completely shredded and I could no long recognize the very object that had been keeping me warm at night.

It took me a moment to process the situation. After all I've done for him, he goes and destroys my hoodie? He stood crouched over the remains of his poor victim, content with the little strips it had been reduced into.

I felt enraged, absolutely furious. In a moment of pure anger, I raised the crowbar above my head and brought it down towards him.

He happened to see it coming and with a surprised yelp, quickly leaped out of the way before it came into contact with hard concrete. Snarling, he sent a warning look at me to try and ward me off. But I was too angry to consider it.

Running at him again, I could feel the weight of the backpack and the crowbar together proving to be a real issue. I swung slow, and he didn't really have to put much effort in avoiding my pathetic hits. Cursing at him, I used both hands to try and land a blow.

Throwing the bar at him mid-leap, it hit his shoulder and he hissed in pain. I grinned, getting my revenge, forgetting all kindness I had felt for him earlier. In this world now, kindness never got you anywhere anymore.

The hunter collapsed to the ground and I picked back up the bar while he clutched his shoulder. Realization hit me and I suddenly became very afraid. I just made an enemy with a deadly killer who before, was just an annoyance. Now, he has another reason to slice my neck open.

I took a few steps back; now aware of the danger I had put myself into. Thinking to myself, I shouldn't have overreacted, instead, I should have just let him do whatever he wanted and leave him be. Because now he wasn't acting as friendly as he did before.

His snarls turned into furious growls while he pulled himself up into standing position again. I was sure he didn't see me as anything else than prey now, and with just a melee weapon, I wouldn't be able to take down a hunter, injured or not.

By the time he was standing up right I had already bolted down the street. The abandoned cars piled up and down the roads blocked my path where ever I turned, so I ended up taking some weird routes trying not to touch anyone them and to get away from him as far as possible.

Holding my weapon close to my body, I skidded down another alley way. Alley ways have not been kind to me recently, but it's not like I had a choice. I spotted a fire escape halfway down. With no hesitation, I started climbing up the stairs.

The window it had led to was bolted shut, and I swore out loud to myself when I heard a distant howl behind me. Hoisting myself up the rest of the stairs, I grabbed hold of the roof. Using my non-existent upper body strength, I heaved myself up as far as I could

If he hasn't spotted me yet, he'll most likely be looking on the ground. If he doesn't find me there, he'll either move on or start looking in higher up places. I hoped to be somewhere safe before he gets to that point.

But just as I was about to climb the next set of stairs, the rusty fire escape I had been standing on crumbled beneath my weight. Letting out a frightened yell, I fell backwards.

The ground was rushed towards me, or really, me to it. I would say that my life flashed in front of my eyes, but I hit the ground before I it did. Slamming onto the ground on my back, I yelped out in pain felt something crack. I couldn't tell just what it was though, everything hurt at the moment.

Moaning, I rolled over. I was a sitting duck right now, and I needed to make sure I didn't seriously break my spine. The distance I had fallen from wasn't too high, but it still hurt as hell.

Somehow managing to sit up on my knees, I looked around for the crowbar. It had slipped from my hands mid-fall. Spotting it against a wall, I crawled over to it and regained it. My hands and arms ached trying to lift and I had to catch my breath before clutching it to my chest.

The part of the fire escape that had broken off was a heap of metal now. Looking up, if I had climbed any higher, I don't know how many body parts I would have broken.

Groaning, I picked myself up to my feet. Using the crowbar as a crutch, I hunched over. If things like this kept happening, I wasn't going to last three more days. Still, I lasted longer than I thought I would on my own.

I knew he was behind me before he voiced him arrival. He had a knack for trying to sneak up on me, as hunters do. He sat perched a couple feet away, on the railing of what was left over from the escape.

His face was smug, and he showed it pretty well though I could only see half of it. This was payback for earlier. I gritted my teeth at him, obviously displeased with his presence. If he had watched me fall, then I considered throwing the bar at him again.

But I didn't have the strength, nor the courage to do such a thing. Not with how I was feeling.

Facing him fully, he gave out a short, throaty chuckle. Or at least I think it was something sort of a laugh, in truth he sounded like he was choking.

Displaying a defeated face, I muttered under my breath. "You win."

He didn't understand, and tilted his head at the unfamiliar sounds that came from my mouth. Sometimes I truly wondered what intelligence the infected had lost, and what they had kept.

He leaped down from his spot above me and I flinched when he landed quite close. There wasn't any claws raking against my face or tearing at my chest, so I supposed he felt that he had gotten his revenged.

Moving my attention from him, I faced my current goal: Finding a safe house. If I remember correctly, there was one downtown, that we had left some supplies in for any other survivors. If I'm lucky, there weren't any.

Limping in the direction I hoped that was the right one, I listened to his following footsteps.

* * *

**I apologize for the extremely late update, and if it makes you feel any better, I am actually starting to piece together a plot line. So woop-dee-doo.**

**The poll that is deciding the hunter's name is still up, and it would really help me out if you, my wonderful readers, would vote in it. I'm still taking suggestions, so feel free to PM me or leave a review with your idea!**


	9. Doug

**Disclaimer: I don't own Left 4 Dead**

Among The Dead: Doug

I swear, if the infected didn't kill me first, he will, just with his presence. Ever since our heated chase, I've been constantly on nerve. When he made any noise, I would find myself whipping around to see things the same way as they were before. My poor sanity was starting to depend on whether or not I could tolerate him, not by being by myself anymore. At this point, I wondered if it would be better if I _was_ by myself.

He's annoying, and creepy. It would be dead silent on the streets, with no problem in sight and he will growl for no reason, causing me to turn around in surprise and fear, just to see him mocking me. He's totally playing with me, I decided. It was just that I had lost the guts to do something back. Friendly hunter or not, he could still kill me.

I could attack him with the perfume I still had, but I didn't want a repeat of yesterday. When the sun had set, I crawled into a dumpster to sleep in, the hunter resting nearby. The entire night while I had slept, I was afraid of him doing something to me in my sleep, and while sleeping in trash was really was disgusting, it kept me hidden from view. By now I guess I didn't smell any better than he did. Maybe I'll just use that perfume for myself, but it would only mask the smell.

The crowbar was turning out to be a very useful weapon. After a little while, I had gotten used to it's weight, and if I could land a blow on the head of an infected, it would only take one hit. I still kept an eye out for ammo though.

I ate as I walked, too hungry to wait, but too anxious to stop walking. From the way he whined at the sight of food, I deemed he was hungry too. In fact, I haven't seen him eat anything while he's been with me. He kept a good distance away, but I made sure to glance back at him every other bite or so, to make sure he didn't try to use sticky fingers and steal from my pack.

That familiar pity feeling began to creep up inside of me again, and I mentally groaned. It slithered away as I took out a can of salami, holding it in the air. "Hungry?" No answer, but I urged on. "Promise not to creep me out anymore and I'll feed ya. Deal?" It was a dumb request, so what?

He stared at the can in my hands, not caring about what I said, that I was trying to communicate with him, and solely focusing on the potential food. It was like trying to talk to a dog, an untrained, disobedient, cannibal dog. Sighing, I placed the can on the ground and lifted my crowbar up high.

It made a cracking noise as I hit it open. A little bit of the food leaked out onto the ground, but the rest of it was mostly still inside the can. I pried the rest of the lid off, fully exposing the contents. He stayed focused on my offering, unsure whether it was a trap or not. Who knows? He may think I'm still angry about the whole ripping up my jacket thing. And I am, by the way.

Since he wouldn't take it for a few seconds, I swiped it back up from the ground and waved it taunting manner, toying with him. He obviously didn't like my playfulness, letting out an irritated growl before he leaped forward a few feet to snatch the can.

I pulled it out of his way just in time, letting out a little laugh as he fumbled. Without eye contact I could tell he was glaring. "Deal or no deal?" It felt good to say something, even if I was speaking to something that couldn't talk back.

Suddenly, he emitted not an irritated, but playful sound towards me, leaping towards the can again. He would of caught it too, if I had not pulled it to my chest, he missed by mere inches.

Chuckling, I crouched and faced him, eye to eye. Or really, more like eye to hood, but it still had the same effect. Bringing the can to view between us, I held it out in a peaceful, professional manner. "Deal?"

Instead of an answer, instead, he stole the salami from me.I let him rip it from my hand and watched as he pretty much drank its contents. Briefly, I wondered if he could consume other things too, not just fish, or meat basically. There was one way to find out. I held out the can of green beans I was eating from before, and shook it slightly. "Try it, you might like it"

He paused his eating for a minute, looking up at my offering, then huffed and turned back to his raw meat. Sighing, I rolled my eyes and stood up. So they only ate things that were once alive, great. Maybe I was thinking into much into this. Readjusting my straps, I started walking again.

He brought the can with him, and I could hear him slurping the juice and tearing at the meal. Maybe the effects of raw food didn't bother him, like it did for normal people. I know that if I ate raw meat again, I would be sick. That last time I was just that desperate.

A couple minutes later, I heard a clanking noise and spun around to see the can thrown aside, and a satisfied hunter behind me. I smiled at the fish hanging from his chin. "You got something on you face" He just tilted his head and I mentally slapped myself.

I pointed to my own chin, around the same spot his food was hanging from. "Here" I said, tapping my face lightly. Once again, he looked baffled. Crouching down to his height, I pointed to my chin again, trying to make my point clear. "You have food, here". I tapped again. The hunter just eyed me suspiciously, and I realized that my words held a sort of double-meaning.

But of course I didn't worry; he wouldn't have understood it anyway. I moved my finger to point to his own face. "There" I flicked it off, and he flinched ever so slightly. Giggling, I flicked my nail again. Not sure why I found this so amusing, but it was kind of cute even.

While I toyed him, he seemed to get the idea of what I was doing. He brought his own claw up to my dirty face and I flinched in response. Now we were just poking each other's faces, not really something to do when a bunch of hungry, violent infected could pop out of anywhere. Not productive at all.

Pulling my hand back, I waited for him to do the same. Instead, his claw pressed harder into my skin and I was starting to think he was trying to draw blood. It hurt and I decided that I was done. I placed my hand over his wrist, carefully, and slowly tried to pull it away from my cheek. He was hesitating, but eventually he dropped his hand.

Enough with the awkward moment, we still had a journey to make. In the distance I thought I could hear a humming sound, but I ignored it, probably nothing important anyway. Standing again, I started moving away from our current spot, peeking around the corner for any infected.

The hunter behind me just followed, he wasn't making anymore noises. In fact, for the rest of the walk, he was quite quiet. The only time where he made any more sounds is when we were attacked by a single wanderer.

I lifted my crowbar high, ready to swing at the incoming infected. It had popped out of a dumpster as we were passing by. It smelled of boomer bile and the thought of a boomer around here only made me want to move faster. It ran at me, arms outstretched.

Before it came close enough to where I could bat at it, the hunter jumped in front of me, and I took a stepped back by his sudden movement. Growling, he swung his right hand onto the chest of the infected and his claws buried themselves into her shirt. He made a tugging movement, and the infected made an surprised outcry.

His hand was snagged on something, so he pulled even harder. A loud, gruesome cracking sound was heard and he wretched his hand out of her person. In his grasp was what I guess is a rib.

The infected woman made a gurgling sound as she fell to the ground. I wrinkled my nose at the show of death. He was either very violent before the infection, or just 'creative'. Or he could just be showing off, trying to prove to me his strength. Whatever.

He turned to me, rib still in hand, waiting for a reaction. I nodded my thanks, smiling, muttering something under my breath. He paid no attention to my response, instead, his attention was suddenly directed down the road, where that humming from before was growing immensely louder.

My first thought was shake the ground when they come near,however, this humming wasn't the thundering sounds of one's footsteps. Instead, it sounded more like a motor, like a power generator or a car, a good distance away but getting closer.

The insane part of my mind thought that maybe my friends were coming back for me, and were looking for me. This made me want to get closer, to find whatever was making the humming noise.

Too caught up in my delusions, I started walking in the direction of the humming instead of my original route. The hunter gave a confused rumble, before following my lead. He dropped the rib near its owner.

It was getting even louder, and I was getting more and more excited. Now I could tell it was a vehicle at this point, and infected can't drive cars. Subconsciously, I walked a little faster, barely noting how uneasy the hunter behind me was getting. My ankle was starting to get sore, and I spared a thought on how the hunter my feel, but It erased itself as a truck came into view.

It wasn't my friends, and my heart dropped. It was a muddy, moss green truck with tinted windows and worn tires, not the rescue I was hoping for.

My first thought was to turn around and bolt. I didn't know who was in that truck, and I didn't want to take the chance that they weren't friendly. I spun in my spot to head in the other direction, but stopped short when I realized that the hunter wasn't behind me.

As he in the air, watching from the buildings somewhere? Then he was having the same idea as me, not really wanting to meet the driver in the approaching truck.

But I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings, and it got close enough to spot me while I looked up at the rooftops. I swallowed, wishing I had bolted when I could.

The window started rolling down and I expected the barrel of a gun to appear on the other side. So I raised my bar to my chest in case I was about to get looted. My cookie monster backpack and it's full capacity load wasn't exactly hidden.

Instead, I saw a dark, wrinkled, amused face smoking a cigarette as the ashes fell into his beard. And no, it wasn't Bill. "Whacha starin' at tha clouds for, Bub?"

Surprised at his amused, friendly tone, I opened my mouth but nothing came out. He smiled, creating even more wrinkled tones to his features. "You lost?"

"You're not gonna kill me?" I asked, dumbfounded. He laughed a good hearty laugh. "Heh, you a funny one." He flicked his cigarette out the end of his window. "What's a kid like you doing all alone?"

I was about to defend myself by saying that I wasn't alone. But I didn't have my friends anymore, and the hunter…just didn't count, besides, he ditched me anyway. So instead, I just shrugged.

The man just sat and thought for a moment, staring at me as the engine ran. I was about to say something about him wasting gas, but then I spotted the tons of gallons in the back, and I kept my mouth shut, especially when I spotted the shotgun in the passenger seat.

"Don't worry, Bub, I ain't gonna shoot ya." He announced, noticing where my eyesight had landed. I nodded, only half believing it. Not everybody can remain humane when the world has gone to hell.

His cigarette was finished and he threw it to the ground. "Where you going?" He asked, I just shrugged again. "Out of the city." He nodded at my answer, before shoving the shotgun from the passenger seat to the middle. I clutched my crowbar closer to my chest.

"Need a ride, Bub?"

It sounded more like he was telling me more than asking, but I figured I could trust him. Something, and not just appearance, but something about his reminds me of Bill. Nodding hesitantly, I walked around the back to the passenger side. His smiled, and reached over to open the door for me.

"Sorry for tha mess, but it's hard to keep tha ol' girl clean when I gotta ram her into a horde, ya know?" I smiled, thinking of that happening in an epic action movie. What I would give to watch another blockbuster now a days.

I shut the car door, and sat back, letting my feet rest after a long walk. They ached and my ankle was hurting, but not as much as I thought it would, meaning it was definitely getting better. "What gotcha pretty face, huh?" The old man asked, as he moved the truck forward slowly once more.

I patted my cheek. I had pretty much forgotten the scratches on my face, but from the way I could barely feel them, they wouldn't be on my skin much longer. "Infected, and don't worry, I'm immune" I said, making it clear that he had no reason to kill me, except for the bag of food I was lunging around.

Speaking of which, I shrugged the bag off of my shoulder and put it in the floorboards. Leaning back onto the beat up car seat, my back was starting to feel the effects of carrying such a heavy weight around for a long time.

"What's your name, Bub?"

With my eyes closed, I spoke. "Zoey, you?" The man laughed, keeping his old crow eyes on the road. "The name's Doug, Bub, and I hope ya don't mind me callin' ya that." I didn't know what 'Bub' was or meant, but I was sure that it was nothing offensive. Kinda like a nickname.

"I don't mind." I glared out the window, to the moving streets. The car smelt of smoke and dried blood. It was getting cold, and I wrapped my arms around myself in response. Being in just a tank top didn't help either.

"Reach in the back, there might be something that can fit ya." The bearded man, Doug, said, weaving our way around the streets littered with abandoned cars. I nodded, and reached behind the seat. My hands met soft fabric and I pulled out the first thing I could grab and held it out in front of me.

It was an oversized, dark red, long sleeved T-shirt, and I threw it over me without delay. Doug glanced at me as I snuggled into my newfound mobile blanket. He chuckled. The sleeves were long enough to go past my hands, but I was working on rolling them up far enough to handle my weapon properly.

"That one was mine, and I don't think the fat man look suits you" He coughed to me, smiling, earning a chuckle in return. "Thank you, and I guess you need something in return?" I said, kicking the bag for emphasis. I was about to offer a can of food. He was giving me a ride, as well as a comfy mobile blanket, so I was choosing to trust him. Something like trust was hard to find, I just wish I could keep mine with him.

"Nah, keep ya nasty can food, I got me some real stuff in the back, you see." He pointed his thumb towards the trucks cargo. "What I got is better than ya nasty city-folk food, Bub, so don't ya worry, I ain't gonna steal none of horse turd"

Once again, I smiled, something I found myself doing a lot of that day. Leaning back, I relaxed "Suit yourself" Doug grinned, pulling out another cigarette. I had the feeling that I didn't need to worry about him.

I sighed, gripping the crowbar in my lap. Maybe I can ask if he has any ammunition? Later, I though, now was not the time, I was getting tired anyway. Staring out the window, I rolled the sleeves of my sweater up to where I could readjust my ponytail. A shower would be great right about now, but all I had was the perfume from the hotel, and I wasn't going to use that just yet.

There as an ear shattering screech, and the truck made a sudden stop. I cursed out loud, having hit my ankle up against my own bag and almost apologized, but stopped when I realized that Doug was spitting out curses like a sailor.

Something hard and heavy landed on the hood of the car, and there was a permanent dent underneath him as he sat on the hood of the truck. He growled at Doug, but made no aggressive moves towards him. Shocked, I stared at him through the windshield. The infected gave a short glance to me, but kept most of his attention to the driver.

I turned to Doug, excepting him to whip out his shotgun and try and shoot the hunter. But instead, he was calmly smoking, flicking the ashes out of the window. On his face was a hardly detectable, but amused grin. He laughed a raspy, but clearly entertained laugh.

"I don't think ya boyfriend here wants me to steal ya away, Bub."

**Yes, I am introducing a new character into the story. How long he will last, his intentions, and just him in general, you will have to find out later on. I won't give out any spoilers here.**

**As for the hunter, I'm naming him the next chapter, so if you have any ideas for his name, I would love to hear them. Also, if you see any mistakes I have made in ANY of my chapters, feel free to point them out. I love feedback, it motivates me to continue with this.**

**NOTE: The poll I have created to help with the name choosing will be closing soon, so I urge you to vote. There is currently a tie and if a tie breaker isn't made soon then I will have to decide between the selected names. VOTE VOTE VOTE!**


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